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Theses and Dissertations--History History

2017

THE PERSONAL AND SOCIAL CONTEXT OF JUSTINIANIC RELIGIOUS POLICY TO THE THREE CHAPTERS CONTROVERSY

Joshua McKay Powell University of Kentucky, [email protected] Author ORCID Identifier: https://orcid.org/0000-0003-0827-8106 Digital Object Identifier: https://doi.org/10.13023/ETD.2017.298

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Recommended Citation Powell, Joshua McKay, "THE PERSONAL AND SOCIAL CONTEXT OF JUSTINIANIC RELIGIOUS POLICY PRIOR TO THE THREE CHAPTERS CONTROVERSY" (2017). Theses and Dissertations--History. 48. https://uknowledge.uky.edu/history_etds/48

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REVIEW, APPROVAL AND ACCEPTANCE

The document mentioned above has been reviewed and accepted by the student’s advisor, on behalf of the advisory committee, and by the Director of Graduate Studies (DGS), on behalf of the program; we verify that this is the final, approved version of the student’s thesis including all changes required by the advisory committee. The undersigned agree to abide by the statements above.

Joshua McKay Powell, Student

Dr. Olster, Major Professor

Dr. David Hamilton, Director of Graduate Studies THE PERSONAL AND SOCIAL CONTEXT OF JUSTINIANIC RELIGIOUS POLICY PRIOR TO THE THREE CHAPTERS CONTROVERSY

______

DISSERTATION ______

A dissertation submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in the College of Arts and Sciences at the University of Kentucky

By Joshua McKay Powell

Lexington, Kentucky

Director: Dr. David Olster, Professor of History

Lexington, Kentucky

2017

Copyright © Joshua McKay Powell 2017 ABSTRACT OF DISSERTATION

THE PERSONAL AND SOCIAL CONTEXT OF JUSTINIANIC RELIGIOUS POLICY PRIOR TO THE THREE CHAPTERS CONTROVERSY

The emperor Justinian's religious policy has sometimes been characterized as haphazard or incoherent. This dissertation examines religious policy in the from the accession of the emperor Justin to the inception of the Three Chapters controversy in the mid 540's AD. It considers the resolution of the , Justinian's apparent ambivalence with regard to the Theopaschite formula, the attempt to court the anti-Chalcedonians in in the period leading up to the Council of 536, and the relationship between the genesis of the Three Chapters and Second Origenist controversies.

Even during these seemingly disparate episodes, this dissertation argues that it is possible to account for the apparent incoherence of this period. To do so, we create an account which includes and appreciates the embeddedness of imperial policy within a social context with two key features. First, we must bear in mind the shifting interests and information available to the individual agents through and over whom the emperor hoped to project influence. Second, we must identify the shifting and hardening symbolic and social boundaries established through the interactions of these same, competing agents. These form the basis for in- and out-group categorization. The individual interests of individual people—whether Justinian, , Dioscorus, Leontius, , Theodore Askidas, or Pelagius—within complex networks must always be accounted for to give a complete picture. When this social context is accounted for, Justinian's approach appears as that of a rational actor, having incomplete information, with consistent policy goals, working within inconsistent constraints to achieve those goals.

Joshua Powell

7/26/2017 THE PERSONAL AND SOCIAL CONTEXT OF JUSTINIANIC RELIGIOUS POLICY PRIOR TO THE THREE CHAPTERS CONTROVERSY

By

Joshua McKay Powell

Dr. David Olster Director of Dissertation

Dr. David Hamilton Director of Graduate Studies

7/26/2017 For Linda, my mother. Αἰωνία ἡ µνήµη. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Although this dissertation bears my name, much that is worthwhile in it, and nothing that is lacking, may be credited to the kindness and insight of others. My advisor,

David Olster, offered extensive advice and the rare example of a scholar who genuinely cares to see an argument pursued to its conclusion regardless of what that conclusion might be. I offer thanks to my complete committee, including David Bradshaw,

Gargola, and David Hunter. To each I owe a great debt for the knowledge they have imparted and the contributions they have made to this project. Thanks are due to my outside reader, Mark Kightlinger, whose efforts helped to see the project's completion.

I would also express my gratitude to family and friends, who have offered aid and support beyond measure. Thanks are due, above all, to my wife, Mary Beth, “for her price is far above rubies.” Priceless too has always been the instruction of my father,

Mitch, and the law of my mother, Linda. Finally, of my friend and colleague Rod Stearn I can only say, “Iron sharpeneth iron; so a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend.”

iii TABLE OF CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS...... iii Introduction...... 1 The Context of Imperial Administration...... 1 The Dichotomy between Church and State...... 4 Der Zickzackkurs des Justinians Kirchenpolitik...... 14 Theoretical Background...... 19 Embeddedness...... 20 Networked Connections...... 21 Symbolic and Social Boundaries...... 23 An Overview...... 26 A Note on Nomenclature...... 28 Chapter 1: Resolving the Acacian Schism...... 30 The Acacian Schism under Anastasius: An Uncomfortable Conversation...... 30 Vitalian as Champion of ...... 37 Scholarly Perspectives on Vitalian's Motives...... 38 Vitalian's Motives in the Sources...... 43 The End of Anastasius...... 46 Delegation and Negotiation under Justin...... 47 Reciprocal Demands in the Aftermath...... 66 Conclusion...... 68 Chapter 2: Dioscorus and Justinian’s Indecision...... 72 The Theopaschite Controversy as Paradigm of Justinianic Policy Making...... 72 The Theopaschite Formula...... 76 Early Scythian Connections...... 78 The Scythian's Views...... 84 The Theopaschite Formula Rejected...... 99 Two Sudden Changes of Heart...... 111 Chapter 3: The Court’s Anti-Chalcedonians...... 121 The Colloquium of 532...... 121 In-Group and Out-Group Construction...... 126 Access...... 137 Severans at the Court...... 141 The Relaxation of Persecution...... 143 Guests of the Emperor and His Consort...... 145 The Arrival of Agapetus...... 151 The Council of 536...... 156 Chapter 4: Heretics, Living or Dead...... 162 The Three Chapters and Origenism in Scholarship...... 162 The Evidence...... 165 Problems with the Revenge Plot Thesis...... 168 Sabaites in Constantinople...... 170 Unitas Facta Est Ecclesiarum...... 174

iv Origenism and Origenisms...... 180 The Construction of Origenism as a Symbolic Resource...... 186 Origenism in the Sixth Century...... 190 Barsanuphius and John...... 192 Cyril of Scythopolis as a Source for Origenism...... 201 Origenism as Condemned...... 207 From Symbolic Boundaries to Social Boundaries...... 214 Internal Conflict in Palestine...... 215 The Interests of Pelagius...... 217 The Court’s Interests...... 219 Askidas's Sensible Response...... 221 ut mortui damnarentur...... 223 Conclusion...... 231 Conclusion...... 233 Bibliography...... 236 Vita...... 244

v Introduction

The Context of Imperial Administration

Before discussing the specifics of what this dissertation will attempt to accomplish, some background will be necessary. This introduction will begin with a broad discussion of how general imperial administration has been conceived by scholars, before pulling the camera in, so to speak, to examine church and state relations and then, closer still, the ecclesiastical policy of Justinian. In the narrowest sense we will be looking at a handful of paradigmatic events in ecclesiastical history during the first half of the age of

Justinian. But how these events are interpreted have implications for how we are to understand those broader levels, even of the emperor's role in imperial administration generally. In this dissertation we will discover how imperial policy, and ecclesiastical policy specifically, is conditioned by the specific social context in which it is embedded

The eastern Roman empire easily impresses those who study it with its sophisticated legal and bureaucratic systems. This is especially of the age of Justinian, the emperor responsible for the most important and influential codification and systematization of Roman law. For this reason, it has been tempting to treat the empire of this and later periods almost as a modern state, inasmuch as it appears to have both ruled based rational-legal authority and the bureaucratic apparatus to carry out directives.1

Indeed, there is a tradition stretching back to J. B. Bury to analyze the later Roman empire in just this fashion. In Bury's hands, the emperor becomes an autocrat, at the head

1 Concerning rational-legal authority, see , and : An Outline of Interpretive Sociology (New York: Bedminster Press, 1968), Vol. 1, Part 1, Chapter III.

1 of a constitutional state.2 Such thinking is behind the deliberate use of the term state

(Staat) in George Ostrogorsky's magnum opus, and is reflected in his tendency to focus on institutional structure above all else.3 This impression is only intensified by the detailed, careful, and important work contained in A.H.M. Jones's The Later Roman

Empire, 284-602. In Jones's hands, imperial administration was rational and systematic, policy was formulated through a formal process.4 Organizational flowcharts would be as

2 “The constitutional theory which I have delineated is implied in the actual usages from which I have drawn it; but it was never formulated. Constitutional questions did not arise, and no lawyer or historian expounded the basis or the limits of the sovran [sic] power. In fact, the constitution was not differentiated in men's consciousness from the whole body of laws and institutions. They did not analyse the assumptions implied in their practice, and the only idea they entertained, which can be described as a constitutional theory, does not agree, though it may be conciliated, with the theory that I have sketched. If you had asked a Byzantine Emperor what was the basis of his autocracy and by what right he exercised it, he would not have told you that it had been committed to him by the Senate, the army, or the people; he would have said that he derived his sovranty directly from .” J. B. Bury, The Constitution of the Later Roman Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1910), 35-36. 3 Thus one finds Ostrogorsky treating the emperor as the divinely ordained bureaucrat-in-chief: “With the disturbances of the crisis the Roman went under, and disappeared during 's absolute rule, out of which the Byzantine autocracy was to develop. The old municipal authorities of the Roman cities were in a condition of grave deterioration. The whole administration of the state was centred in the hands of the Emperor and his administrative officials, and after considerable expansion this civil service was to become the backbone of the Byzantine autocracy. The Roman system of magistrates gave place to the Byzantine bureaucracy. The Emperor was no longer the first magistrate, but an absolute ruler, and his power was derived not so much from earthly authorities as from the will of God.” George Ostrogorsky, History of the Byzantine State (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1969), 30. 4 See, e.g., A.H.M. Jones, The Later Roman Empire, 284-602 (Oxford: Blackwell, 1964), 1.347-57. In one characteristic phrase, Jones typifies his own work: “Such was the structure of the central administrative machine.” (373) [fix cite] It would be easy to overstate this case and give a caricature of Jones, since his approach is so consistent. He does not, in fact, lack nuance. As Whitby writes; “Although Jones categorised emperors as

2 helpful to understanding Jones's Roman empire as maps are for a narrative history.5

This view of history offers valuable insight into the powerful institutions which shaped the period. It offers the necessary groundwork for anyone who wishes to understand the exercise of power by the emperor. But, as we shall see, it needs to be augmented with modern insights into the social realities in which institutional actors operate. Such realities complicate the picture and help to explain what might otherwise be mystifying behavior on the part of institutional actors. We will return to this social context later.

If the work of a Bury, Jones, or even a Theodor Mommsen tends to present the reader with ideal schemata of governmental structures, more recent work tends to regard such schemata as, if anything, naive. Scholarly focus has long since shifted from such schematic institutional approaches to history to questions of culture or discourse as the genuine locus of power. Not only this, but even among the more institutionally inclined, there has been an increased emphasis on recognizing the contrast between the ideal forms institutions take and the practical realities in which they operate. Thus, we find the

possessing absolute powers (321), he accepted some limitations, which might be personal, so that the descendants of could be said to have “reigned rather than ruled the empire” (173), or structural in the form of “powers behind the throne” (341-7). Jones fully recognised that even the most engaged of emperors acted within a particular human context, so that the close entourage was of considerable significance in determining imperial decisions [...]” “The Role of the Emperor” in A.H.M. Jones and the Later Roman Empire, ed. David M. Gwynn (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 89. Such are exceptional cases, however. I will here argue that the informal, human aspects are built into all interactions within the institutions we will examine and thus have a central role in forming the directions actors within those institutions take. 5 And this is precisely what one finds in John Haldon's “State Structure and Admistration” in Elizabeth Jeffreys, John Haldon and Robin Cormack, eds. The Oxford Handbook of (New York: Oxford University Press, 2008): 539-53, for charts see 547 et seq.

3 following statement by H.A. Drake describing the idealized role an emperor can play in historiography:

In its purest form, the Rational Actor approach presumes that such a figure has complete freedom of action to achieve goals that he or she has articulated through a careful process of rational involving full and objective study of all pertinent information and alternatives. At the same time, it presumes that this central actor is so fully in control of the apparatus of that a decision once made is as good as implemented. There are no staffs on which to rely, no constituencies to placate, no generals or governors to cajole. By attributing all decisions to one central figure who is always in control and who acts only after carefully weighing all options, the Rational Actor method allows scholars to filter out extraneous details and focus attention on central issues. It is particularly useful for periods like classical antiquity, where little of the documentation for more sophisticated analysis of decision making, such as personal diaries or the minutes of meetings, survives. In the hands of a skilled practitioner, it is a powerful tool. […] The problem arises when the method to be taken as fact.6

But the former approach and the scholarly context from which it was derived had an important effect on the treatment of church and state relations. It shapes one's assumptions when looking at this relationship, as one would naturally see ecclesiastical policy in the empire as an extension of the emperor's will.

The Dichotomy between Church and State

Early scholarship on the question of Justinianic ecclesiastical policy—and indeed the relationship between church and state in Byzantium generally—tended to dwell on the definition and place of so-called . This term is no longer in vogue but it must be addressed due to its pedigree in the historiography of Justinianic ecclesiastical policy.

It is in the work of Justinian that one finds the height of the Byzantine usurpation

6 H. A. Drake, Constantine and the : The Politics of Intolerance (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000), 24-5.

4 of ecclesiastical prerogative or the purest expression of symphony between Christian and secular power. First, therefore, we shall look at the broad outlines of the relationship between church and state in scholarship. Whether this is interpreted positively or negatively, Justinian’s reign has long been recognized as a high point in the state’s oversight of the internal and doctrinal affairs of the Church. For this reason,

Justinian’s policy7 toward the Church was the locus of the debate over the precise nature of the relationship between church and state in the Byzantine world and, perhaps most telling, the definition and place of so-called “caesaropapism”. We may generalize three different views among scholars on this matter. Thereafter, we may address the more specific question of Justinian’s policy with regards to the controversies of the Three

Chapters and Origenism.

The term caesaropapism took its roots from polemics over the role to be taken by both church and state within the context of seventeenth-century . The term was used to represent one of the two assumed imbalanced extremes in this relationship

7 I intend my use of the term “Justinian's policy” to be understood in accordance with H. A. Drake’s discussion of Constantine’s religious policy. “The best historians--and Baynes surely ranks among them--have always known that they are merely using a kind of shorthand when they condense all the complicated processes of governmental decision making into the person of a single central character. Were he still alive, Baynes might not hesitate to reply that doing so makes more sense than positing alternative positions put forth by officials whose views, and even names, are now lost to history. Indeed it does. The problem is that when studies as powerful as those by Baynes and Burckhardt frame an issue, it is easy for those who follow to mistake the shorthand for the complete record.” Drake, 25. Doubtless, some of the scholars discussed herein intend the term to refer specifically to the policy of Justinian as an individual emperor. Given Justinian’s theological writings, which exceed some emperors by their depth, acumen, and sophistication, and other emperors by their mere existence, one may well be more justified in applying this usage to Justinian than others.

5 that were to be avoided. By caesaropapism was meant the intervention by the secular authorities into the religious realm that was outside their prerogative. A caricature of

Byzantine church and state relations was used to justify this construction. Even so, the reign of Justinian, with his attempts to impose the condemnation of the Three Chapters by fiat, his use of kidnapping to force Vigilius to reconsider his theological positions, and his intensified persecution of heretics, offers the easiest and perhaps most appropriate target for such a term. By an odd turn of history, the corollary papocaesarism, where the religious authorities behave in the fashion of secular princes, fell largely out of use in spite of its obvious anti- rhetorical value to later eighteenth- and nineteenth- century scholars of a certain tradition.

The polemical origins of the term are certainly clear enough and for this reason its use, given the tenor of times and the professional standards of our discipline, has been largely abandoned for scholarly purposes for a little more than a century. So, in the reviews of his policies by Jones and Bury, the term is avoided altogether. Nonetheless, in spite of Dagron’s declaration that no one would any longer speak of the church and state as two institutions (an assumption made by any who speak of caesaropapism), such a division is implicit, and occasionally explicit in certain scholars.

Explicit use of the term caesaropapism is to be found frequently in the works of

Deno J. Geanakoplos. To be sure, Geanakoplos is writing well before Dagron’s more recent declaration of the death of any separation between church and state. Geanakoplos insists that even those who dislike the term caesaropapism are willing to admit that

Justinian ruled in this tradition, which is to be traced back to the mimetic theory on which

6 the Laus Constantini is based. Yet even Geanakoplos, as he insists upon using the term, does so in a way that might prove misleading without a careful reading. As evidence of both Constantine’s and Justinian’s caesaropapism, Geanakoplos offers up as examples of his preference for one over another by means of patronage and building programs.

Far from supporting the old notion of caesaropapism, such examples in fact remove from the term any strong content beyond the notion that Justinian was willing to offer financial support. Indeed, even the most ardent opponent of the term caesaropapism must agree with Geanakoplos that Justinian was the most caesaropapistic of emperors if the term is defined in so broad a manner. Justinian, after all, built more and grander churches than any emperor before or since. This is not intended to criticize the views of Geanakoplos so much as to note that even the scholars who work on Justinian’s reign and are still using the term construct it in a way that is at odds with the original intent of the term.

One odd exception should be noted, however, before proceeding to other views on

Justinian’s ecclesiastical policy. In general, the work of Fr. Francis Dvornik vehemently rejects the notion that the Church was despotically, i.e. caesaropapistically, ruled by the emperors. Dvornik’s approach to the question is typical of his works, in that it is both conciliatory in tone and sympathetic to the views of his sources. Ultimately, Dvornik’s investigations cause him to rule against the notion of caesaropapism, if this notion is constructed as the despotic rule of the emperor over the church. Instead, Dvornik presents a milder picture of the emperor’s relationship to the church.

The role which the emperors played in the definition of the true faith, especially in convoking councils and directing their debates, looks less formidable and dangerous for the Church in light of the Hellenistic ideas on kingship, ideas accepted by the and enobled by the Christian doctrine. There is

7 something sublime in the idea that the emperor should be the image of God, imitating his generosity and clemency , and that the emperor’s foremost duty was to lead his subjects to God. Because of this duty he could not be indifferent to the definition of the true faith. This is a high conception of rulership, a conception which our age of material statism will hardly understand or appreciate.8

Dvornik comes very close to making an exception for Justinian’s rule, however, when he comes to the condemnation of the Three Chapters. This he regards as a glaring intrusion into the definition of doctrine. In spite of this he holds that the affair of the

Three Chapters only made the Church more conscious of its own prerogatives. Here we see once more the importance of the Three Chapters Controversy to the larger themes of church and state relations.

Between a view which holds the emperors as highly, even excessively involved in church affairs and the definition of doctrine, and a view which loudly rejects both intent and content of the term caesaropapism as anachronistic, lies a sort of via media. This via is suggested, essentially, by the sources themselves. It is, at its heart, a rejection of

Western paradigms in interpreting the relationship between church and state, which stems from a two powers tradition which also takes its roots in and may be found most clearly in the letter of to the emperor Anastasius, in favor of the synergy or harmony paradigm. The notion of a synergy between church and state is most vocally advocated in the works of Fr. and, to evidence this view, he often focuses on the policies of Justinian. Meyendorff recognizes, along with Dvornik, that neither Justinian nor any other emperor ever had a direct role in the proceedings of

Councils but both in theory and in practice the emperors regarded their role as enforcing

8 Francis Dvornik, “Emperors, , and General Councils,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 6 (1951), 22.

8 conciliar decisions. Meyendorff, however, points to a fundamental problem in the portrayal of church and state relations in the Byzantine context. Whereas one might think of a harmony between church and state as a harmony between two distinct entities,

Meyendorff says rather that in the synergy between church and state we have the internal harmony of a single society.

The “harmony” itself mentioned in the text, is not a harmony between two powers, or between two distinct , the Church and the State, rather, it is meant to represent the internal cohesion of one single human society, for whose orderly welfare on earth the emperor alone is responsible. In Justinian’s legal thinking there is actually no place at all for the Church as a society sui generis. The Empire and the Church are one single body of the faithful administered by a twofold, God-given hierarchy; theoretically, a duality is preserved between the imperium and the sacerdotium, but inasmuch as the priesthood’s role is to deal with divine things, it has almost no legal expression ; in Justinian’s mind the law governs the entirety of human polity, and the emperor is sovereign in issuing laws. Ecclesiastical traditions and conciliar decisions are made laws by imperial decree, but they have no legal and binding existence in themselves.9

Meyendorff’s preferred evidence here is Novel VI, and for good reason. Novel VI is the subject of much discussion over Justinian’s ecclesiastical policies and thought. The content of the novel is important in and of itself, containing numerous regulations over the lives, morals, and election of bishops, but this sort of regulation is not unprecedented.

It is Justinian’s introduction which hold the attention of historians. This introduction treats both the imperium and the sacerdotium as gifts proceeding from one and the same

God, one to administer divine and the other human affairs. Justinian treats it as the imperial role to guard and oversee the sacerdotium to ensure the common good of the empire and the favor of God. Meyendorff builds upon this introduction a general theory of church and state synergy. Both the imperium and the sacerdotium are hierarchies given

9 John Meyendorff, “Justinian, the Empire and the Church,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 22 (1968), 49.

9 by God to aid the welfare of mankind but, according to Meyendorff, the divine affairs themselves have no legal expression.

This is a problem, Meyendorff says, because the law is meant to govern the activities of the entire human polity. Since the emperor is charged to protect the human polity, a charge for which he is to be judged by rewards and punishments in this life and the next, it is his responsibility to make legally binding and enforce the conciliar decrees.

This leads to a very peculiar use of the term caesaropapism by Meyendorff. But the use of the term in Meyendorff merely indicates a synergy between the prerogatives of church and state, not the domination of the Church by the state.

Along similar lines we may notice the work of William S. Thurman, who discusses at length the policies of Justinian with regard to dissenters. Needless to say, a discussion of ecclesiastical policy in this period assumes both the inclusive principle of regulating those who are members of the Church and the exclusive principle of defining those who are outside it. Thurman too returns to Novel VI, seeing it as an example of

Justinian’s theological interpretation of kingship. Justinian views his role, according to

Thurman, as one of common superintendency. This view of his role directly shapes

Justinian’s policies for those he considers outside the Church. Thereupon, Thurman reviews the numerous laws instituted by Justinian against heretics, pagans, Jews, and all other non-conformists and the severe restrictions imposed upon them. Referring to

Thurman’s work, Meyendorff in one place speaks of the appalling consequences of

Justinian’s attempt to unify the laws of the state with orthodox in order to effect conformity. Appalling is indeed an apt term, but Thurman’s work was built more around

10 describing rather than judging Justinian’s approach to religious dissenters. In this regard,

Thurman concludes ’ charge that Justinian’s religious policy left the empire filled with death, exiles, and liars is accurate.

If the notion found in the sources of synergy or superintendency undermines the dichotomy between church and state upon which the notion of caesaropapism is built, thus rendering it an unnecessary term, the notion is discarded altogether when we come to the more recent works of Averil Cameron and Gilbert Dagron. One of the main themes of scholarship in Late Antiquity and Early Byzantium over the past forty years has been to discuss the relationship between power and culture and in this regard these two scholars are quite indicative.

Averil Cameron’s work on the subject of Justinian’s ecclesiastical policy is fairly typical of her work as a whole. Religious views, and orthodoxy in particular, are understood as a cultural discourse which those who hold power must do their best to control to maintain their position.10 The techniques used by Justinian to control the discourse include a very wide range, spanning from the direct use of force (which, as

Foucault would remind us, is not power) to varied methods of persuasion such as the use of stacked councils. One such method of controlling the discourse would be in the creation of laws even when they are not executed by force inasmuch as the laws have an authoritative prominence, they grant a certain legitimacy, and they are read publicly. It is important to note that such a view of the development of orthodoxy can be explained without reference to the traditional structures used such as church and state.

10 See e.g. Averil Cameron, “Enforcing Orthodoxy in Byzantium,” Studies in Church History 43 (2007): 1-24.

11 Dagron’s work, highly influenced on the one hand by the French tradition of materialism and developments in anthropology on the other, is likewise highly marked by a concern to undermine the dichotomy between church and state altogether.11 In many ways paralleling the work of S. R. F. Price on the earlier Empire, Dagron notes that the real question of the relationship between and the State is one of the sacral role of kings in any ancient context. Dagron explores the sacral role, in both its nature and limits, held by the Emperor primarily through an very thick description of Imperial and ceremonial. I point to Dagron, however, not because of any specific interpretation he has of Justinian’s ecclesiastical policy. While he certainly discusses Justinian in the above way, he does so in a way that blurs the distinction between history and legend (this is typical of his work), he does not treat the question of caesaropapism as one of policy. To expect an analysis of policy would be, largely, to miss Dagron’s point. It is necessary to point to his work, however, because it demands, on account of anachronism, a complete abandonment of the category of caesaropapism both with Justinian and elsewhere. In the case of Cameron and Dagron, we may observe that the more recent tradition of scholarship has been to see the categories of church and state as more of an obstacle than an aid in understanding the relationship between various themes in Late Antiquity, such as orthodoxy and authority or the equally problematic pair, politics and religion.

On this point at least, we may take the efforts of Hans-Georg Beck to undermine a dichotomy between State and Church and politics and religion in Byzantine culture as parallel to the efforts of Dagron and Cameron. While Beck is unwilling to dispense with

11 See Gilbert Dagron, Emperor and Priest: The Imperial Office in Byzantium (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2004).

12 these useful categories, he approaches them more as ideal types which overlap in reality rather than treating them as hypostatized historical entities.

Kirche und Staat bilden nicht zwei nebeneinander stehende selbständige “Gewalten”, stehen freilich auch nicht im Verhältnis der Über- und Unterordnung zueinander, sondern bilden eine mystische Einheit, zwei Aspekte desselben Lebens erlöster Christen. Reichsgeschichte ist zugleich Kirchengeschischte, und entscheidende Impulse der Politik sind religiöser, ja theologische Natur.12

The more general discussion of the relationship between church and state in the

Sixth Century sets the stage for the particular problem to be addressed by this dissertation. Concerning Justinian’s policy specifics, we must consider one ongoing scholarly debate. Since Eduard Schwartz, however, Justinian’s ecclesiastical policy has been treated as highly variable. This view was supported further by Diehl and, perhaps

Justinian’s greatest critic, Ernst Stein. This is, of course, a very different thing from saying that the means by which he attempted to achieve his goals varied. It is, likewise, quite different from the charge by Demetrios Constantelos, among others, that Justinian’s policies were a failure. More recently, the view that Justinian’s policy lacks unity has found a distinguished champion in W. H. C. Frend. Much of this view derives from the sources, such as Procopius, which present him as flip-flopping on , particularly under the influence of Theodora. Recently, however, Patrick Gray has done much to restore the unity of Justinian’s policy. The process is not yet complete, however, and it remains for scholars to show how Justinian’s policy on both the Three Chapters and Origenists can be seen as a matter of unified policy rather than varied palace intrigues.

12 Hans-Georg Beck, Kirche und theologische Literatur im Byzantinischen Reich (München: C.H. Becksche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1959), 1.

13 Der Zickzackkurs des Justinians Kirchenpolitik

This, then, shows us the general state of the historiography of church and state relations under Justinian. For the purposes of this section, we will focus on one very particular aspect of that larger question. How are we to understand the coherence of

Justinian's ecclesiastical policy? This has been a live question at least since Eduard

Schwartz wrote thus:

Iustinian hat nicht, wie es sein Recht und seine Pflicht war, seinse Hand schützend und schirmend über der Kirche gehalten, sondern sie mit der uneingeschränkten Willkür des Despoten behandelt: auf diese These haben Geschichtsschreiber vom Range Diehls und Burys ihre Darstellung aufgebaut und mit Recht Zustimmung gefunden. Aber diese absolutistische Kirchenpolitik steuert einen Zickzackkurs, der zugleich danach verlangt, in einigermaßen begreifbare Zusammenhänge gebracht zu werden, und eine ungeduldige Phantasie zu weltgeschichtlicher Zusammenschau verlockt: abwechselnd wird mit dem Plan des Kaisers, den Okzident wieder in das Imperium hineinzubringen, und seiner Absicht, die sog. Monophysiten zum Anschluß an die Reichskirche zu bewegen, operiert.13

Of course one might suggest that bringing the West back into the empire and bringing the anti-Chalcedonians back into the imperial church are of a piece, but we should save that question for later. For now, we can recognize a scholarly tendency to see a certain incoherence in Justinian's ecclesiastical policy. This is a common enough tendency for

W.H.C. Frend to write the following which calls back to Schwartz's view:

The zigzag policy of Justinian towards the Monophysites in the first half of his reign is well know. In this survey we confine ourselves mainly to the efforts made by the sinister and all-powerful monarch to find a formula which would satisfy both Severus and the Chalcedonians, and how this failure led to the establishment of a separate Monophysite hierarchy.14

13 Eduard Schwartz, Vigiliusbriefe. II. Zur Kirchenpolitik Justinians (München: Verlag der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1940), 32. 14 W.H.C. Frend, The Rise of the Monophysite Movement: Chapters in the History of the Church in the Fifth and Sixth Centuries (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1972), 255.

14 Scholarly discussion of the incoherence of Justinianic religious policy tends to be provoked by a few very particular episodes in Justinian's reign. These episodes, which feature Justinian apparently changing position radically in very short order, act as paradigm cases for his policies as a whole. One such case is highlighted by Patrick Gray, who generally treats Justinian's approach as coherent and consistent.

The first initiative Justinian himself came upon was one that he quickly siezed [sic] on and pursued. In 518 a group of Scythian were taking John of Scythopolis’s approach -- that “one of the was crucified” should be used to explain in a way that would correct the misunderstanding that Chalcedon was Nestorian. Their Chalcedon taught that the Word was the subject of all of the incarnate ’s actions, so that the Son could properly be said to have been crucified. When they took their campaign to , Justinian wrote to opposing them, but days later changed his mind and vigorously urged the pope to accept their proposal positively for “the of the Church.” This about-face is extremely instructive: for one thing, it reveals that Justinian’s fundamental agenda was -- an emperor could have no other -- to restore the peace of the church. It also reveals that Justinian was not concerned about the theological issues per se, since he seems to have been willing to move from one position to its opposite in mere days, and with no sign of a theological , simply because he suddenly realized the potential of the monks’ initiative. This incident thus shows Justinian to be a pragmatic power broker looking for a deal that would do the . It would be many years before he found what he was looking for, and by then it would be too late.15

In the face of Justinian's apparent flip-flop, Gray preserves a degree of coherence only by making Justinian unconcerned with the issues themselves. There is a certain sense to this view—Justinian's desire for unity and his willingness to seek a means of getting there is certainly characteristic of his reign—but, as we will see in chapter 2, the instruction one should take from the about-face is not so clear as it might at first seem.

Gray is not alone in his reaction to this case. With reference to the affair

15 Patrick Gray, “The Legacy of Chalcedon: Christological Problems and Their Significance,” in Michael Maas, ed. The Cambridge Companion to the Age of Justinian (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 228.

15 mentioned above, Volker Menze offers the following assessment:

It cannot be excluded that Justinian had become a connoisseur of Christian discourses over the years and tried to force personal persuasions onto his subjects. However, it is more conclusive to regard his treatises first of all as works of a statesman who wished to reach a universally accepted dogma for the Christian Oecumene over which he ruled. Within a couple of weeks during the summer of 519, Justinian switched his dogmatic position from opposing the theopaschite formula to strongly encouraging Pope Hormisdas to accept it. Obviously this could mean a speedy personal theological development, but it rather demonstrates Justinian's political far‐sightedness that the theopaschite position could be useful. Similarly, political shrewdness should be assumed as the reason why Justinian presented himself as a theologian on the throne.16

Menze still finds a unity and coherence, but like Gray he preserves such coherence despite also portraying Justinian as fundamentally unconcerned with the content of any solution and as willing to switch his approach radically.

The theopaschite controversy is not the only locus of such charges against

Justinian. The relationship between the condemnation of Origenism and the Three

Chapters also inspires complaint, as one follows upon the other and on first sight there is nothing obvious to unify them. The matter is only made worse when one reads the explanation offered in our sources about the connection between these two condemnations. From such an explanation, scholars are almost inevitably led to conclude that Justinian was the victim not only of his own whims, but was also drawn about by the will of others. Frend describes the matter in a fashion by no means peculiar to him:

It is perhaps typical of the twists of Justinian’s religious policy that one of the leaders of the defeated Origenists, Theodore Askidas, a Palestinian promoted to of Caesarea in Cappadocia, became his confidant, ‘constantly about the person of Justinian’, Evagrius states, and that he gradually ousted Pelagius from favour at court. His opposition, however, to the Antiochene theologians was not, outwardly at least, inspired by love for Severus and his

16 Volker-Lorenz Menze, Justinian and the Making of the Syrian Orthodox Church (New York: Oxford University Press, 2008), 252.

16 teaching. He was and remained a Chalcedonian. He believed, however, he could kill two birds with one stone if he could persuade the emperor to condemn the writings of , the works of directed against Cyril’s Twelve and the letter of Ibas to the presbyter Maris which gave a critical account of Cyril’s actions and in the period after Ephesus I. It had commented bitterly on the efforts of ‘the tyrant of ’ (Rabbula) to have Theodore condemned posthumously. By means of an on these ‘Three Chapters’ he aimed at securing the condemnation of a theologian, Theodore, who was strongly opposed to ’s views, and incidentally going some way towards meeting the Monophysite case without rejecting Chalcedon outright. It was an ingenious project.17

More balanced treatments of Justinian's approach are increasingly to be found.

They tend to focus on the bigger picture, on Justinian's overall goal of unity in the church, both in the East and in the West, and to recognize the difficulties such a goal entails. A good example of this attitude may be found in the work of Richard Price, who writes:

Justinian inherited a bitterly divided church in the east, where divisions had been exacerbated by the policy of his predecessors. His initial policy, as expressed in the conference at Constantinople of 532, was to seek reconciliation between the Chalcedonians and non-Chalcedonians on the basis of a mutual recognition that adherents of the other side were not heretical. Part of the exercise was a development of Chalcedonian in a direction that made clear its loyalty to the teaching of Cyril of , to which the non-Chalcedonians professed equal devotion; the formal of theopaschite formulas at Constantinople and at Rome served this purpose. The miaphysites, however, continued to insist that the dyophysite Christology of Chalcedon was irremediably heretical, and as a counter-attack Justinian in his subsequent theological writings, stressed the seriousness of miaphysite error.18

I would join with this larger picture approach, as far as it goes, but something is lost when we treat Justinian's policy as coherent only in the most general sense while averring that he deviated in a few major instances.

17 Frend, 279-80. 18 Richard Price, The Acts of Constantinople of 553 (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2009), 1.40.

17 Recently, Peter N. Bell has offered a new treatment to understand Justinian within his proper political context in his work Social Conflict in the Age of Justinian: Its Nature,

Management, and Mediation. As one might imagine, the work deals with questions beyond the purely ecclesiastical but religious conflict does play a significant role.

Although Bell approaches the matter from a more political and diplomatic perspective, much of what he says is compatible with what I will present here. For the moment, I would note his objections to the treatment of Justinian's ecclesiastical policy identified above.

[I]mperial policies have been represented as being all over the place, marking a ‘zigzag course’--pragmatic in the worst sense. My hypothesis, by contrast, is that, after Chalcedon, the following themes characterize the generally consistent approach emperors brought to religious conflict resolution. [...] If [my] hypotheses are broadly correct, then talk of a ‘zigzag’ course in imperial policymaking--assuming that means not simply tactical flexibility, but the absence of a constant strategic goal--is nonsense, fuelled by political naivety and not setting that policy in its wider political context.19

I concur with this sentiment, although my focus will be placing the 'tactical flexibility' as much within a wider social context as a political one. But Bell's insight into the complexities of the situation stems from his willingness to abandon an idealized view of imperial and ecclesiastical institutions, one with the emperor at the head of a vast, rationalized bureaucracy. This insight leads us into a theoretical question of how institutions actually operate when we properly understand the context in which they are embedded.

19 Peter N. Bell, Social Conflict in the Age of Justinian: Its Nature, Management, and Mediation (New York: Oxford University Press, 2013), 191, 194.

18 Theoretical Background

The relatively recent work of H. A. Drake is an asset to this discussion. Drake’s

Constantine and the Bishops: The Politics of Intolerance has as its subject matter

Christian intolerance as it develops during and shortly after the reign of Constantine. In the work, Drake draws together the broader themes of religion, politics, Church, State, and bureaucracy to create a cogent argument concerning the origins of institutionalized intolerance in Late Antiquity. In so doing, however, he remarkably avoids the pitfall of treating church and state as a dichotomy. He does so by addressing the development of institutionalized intolerance within the context of the dynamics of groups and organizations. Drake summarizes succinctly the goals of his own work.

It is the premise of this study that Christian use of coercion to enforce belief in the latter part of the fourth century was not the inevitable product of inherent Christian intolerance; rather, it can be explained by attention to the nature of as an organization and the dynamics of Christian-pagan relations in the fourth century. Accordingly, to search for coercive measures as proof of the sincerity of Constantine’s conversion is both misguided and misleading. The real brilliance of this emperor’s achievement lies in precisely the opposite direction: his ability to sooth the rightful fears of wary parties and bring them to work together in the name of a higher purpose.20

Drake’s work is a testimony to the relevance of organizational sociology and what he calls “the use of political tools to analyze the problem”.21 Drake dealt primarily with the twists and turns of Constantine’s policy towards Christians and pagans. I will be dealing primarily with the twists and turns of Justinian’s policy towards the several religious groups of his day. Aside from the superficial similarity of the situation, there is a thematic unity between these two subjects in that precisely how the policies are negotiated,

20 Drake, 27. 21 Drake, 27.

19 created, and implemented defines, in a very clear and profound way, the nature of church and state relations. It is for this reason that Drake can be thought of as a model of how to apply the analysis of organizations to the problem addressed by the dissertation.

Embeddedness

One concept acts as the keystone for much of the analysis in this dissertation: embeddedness. A schematic and formal approach to the history of institutions can tell us much about how they function in theory, but it misses out on an important part of the human context in which institutions operate. Embeddedness was developed as a concept by in his efforts to describe the contingent qualities of market capitalism in the nineteenth century.22 In his introduction to Polanyi's The Great Transformation, Fred

Block offers this helpful definition of the concept:

The term “embeddedness” expresses the idea that the economy is not autonomous, as it must be in economic theory, but subordinated to politics, religion, and social relations. Polanyi's use of the term suggests more than the now familiar idea that market transactions depend on trust, mutual understanding, and legal enforcement of contracts. He uses the concept to highlight how radical a break the classical economists, especially Malthus and Ricardo, made with previous thinkers. Instead of the historically normal pattern of subordinating the economy to society, their system of self-regulating markets required subordinating society to the logic of the market: He writes in Part One: “Ultimately that is why the control of the economic system by the market is of overwhelming consequence to the whole organization of society: it means no less than the running of society as an adjunct to the market. Instead of the economy being embedded in social relations, social relations are embedded in the economic system.23

Polanyi's influence has not been limited to the field of economics and economic history, however. Through the influence of Mark Granovetter, embeddedness has found its way

22 See Karl Polanyi, The Great Transformation: The Political and Economic Origins of Our Time, 2nd. ed. (Boston: Beacon Press, 2001), passim. 23 Polanyi, iv.

20 into sociology and had a profound influence on social network theory.24 The term comes to the present work chiefly through this route. Here, embeddedness should be understood as referring to the complex of formal and informal social relations and boundaries in and through which all formal institutions necessarily operate. Without this context, the behavior of both institutions and the agents within them will remain hopelessly obscure.

But to understand the nature of this context as it will be treated here, we must turn to the structure and functioning of social networks.

Networked Connections

Network theory has proven especially fruitful over the past few decades. Its antecedents are varied, stretching as far back as the roots of the mathematical field of graph theory in Leonhard Euler's Seven Bridges of Königsberg and the early twentieth- century work of psychiastrist Moreno in producing 'sociograms'. At the heart of network theory is the idea that the very way connections between elements or 'nodes' in a networked system are structured will shape the behavior of the network as a whole as well as the individual nodes within it. These structures can be analyzed and described mathematically and can be applied with predictive results to subjects as varied as ecosystems, markets, societies, epidemics, and (perhaps unsurprisingly to the modern reader) the Internet.25 The limited evidence available to the late-antique historian makes it impractical to attempt to describe social networks of the period in any sort of

24 See Mark Granovetter, “Economic Actions and Social Structure: The Problem of Embeddedness,” American Journal of Sociology 91 (November 1985): 481- 510. 25 For a broad overview of network theory, its associated mathematics, and its varied applications, see Albert-László Barabási, Linked: The New Science of Networks (Cambridge, MA: Perseus Publishing, 2002).

21 comprehensive or mathematical form, but, as I hope this dissertation demonstrates, this does not preclude the profitable use of network concepts in a late-antique context.26

One such concept is that of position. As one might imagine in a theory used to describe social structures, the particulars of any given node or agent are less important than the connections that agent has to others and, therefore, the agent's placement within the larger structure. Position is the term used to describe this placement.

Positions are a key idea in whole networks. Positions can be social defined statuses, such as father, son, president, or positions can be defined by the observer through network analysis. Both are often called “roles.” Instituted or socially defined statuses themselves form networks; they are generally elaborated upon by informal networks. Positions are sometimes arranged in a hierarchy or a tree. The rules for these hierarchies are generally created by the social system in which they are embedded, though further informal interaction can alter the hierarchies and the rules.27

A related concept derived from the networked quality of human social relations is that of 'structural holes.' We may conceive of human society as emerging from an aggregate of smaller, more closely related networks of relationships. If we begin to model such relationships as they develop, we find that they constitute a pattern of highly connected hubs at the center of relatively dense groups, along with connectors between those hubs which can serve to bridge the otherwise disconnected groups.28 Because the subgroups within such networks would be otherwise unconnected, the position which

26 That being said, M. Schor comes very close to accomplishing just this in his 2011 work, Theodoret's People: Social Networks and Religious Conflict in Late Roman Syria (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2011). The wealth of epistulary evidence on which he relies is one of the few late-antique sources on which one might hope to build the kinds of network descriptions which he constructs. 27 Charles Kadushin, Understanding Social Networks: Concepts, Theories and Findings (New York: Oxford University Press, 2012), 42. 28 For how this structure emerges from the organic growth of networks see Barabási, 55-64.

22 bridges them is referred to as a structural hole. An individual occupying such a position within a network will control the flow of information between the two subgroups he unites. Thereby he will necessarily have an informal degree of influence over both subgroups apart from any formal position he might otherwise occupy in associated formal organizations. For this reason, such an individual may act either to support or to disrupt the organizational authority of hierarchical institutions in which he is a part and his actions may have an effect disproportionate to what one might expect given only his formal position.

The potential influence of a given structural hole may be described in terms of

'betweenness.' The actors in this dissertation often owe their ability to affect events to a high degree of betweenness, which itself is a more concrete way of thinking about the sometimes vague notion of 'influence.' Charles Kadushin defines the term thus:

Betweenness is a measure of a position that serves as a switching point or a gateway between different parts of a network. […] Persons who have a high betweenness rank are those who mediate between different parts of a network; one has to go through them to get to other positions. A person can be an important bridge between parts of a network yet be directly connected to only a few persons.29

Together these terms offer the necessary background for how we will analyze the networked structure in which imperial and ecclesiastical actors are embedded in the age of Justinian.

Symbolic and Social Boundaries

The properties of networked structures can be used to describe certain counter- intuitive phenomena in a concrete social context (e.g. Granovetter's 'strength of weak

29 Kadushin, 205-206.

23 ties'), and they will be employed for this reason below. They are even useful in describing why certain aspects of conflicts unfold the way they do, but they are inadequate to describing the roots of social conflict. As such, a further yet wholly compatible concept is needed. Were one to suggest that conflict was an inherent condition of post-lapsarian man, I do not think he would miss the mark. But such a claim does not offer any means of understanding how individual conflicts are born and develop, especially within a concrete historical context. For such a detailed understanding, recent work on symbolic and social boundaries has proven useful here.

The categorization of other human beings as belonging to in- and out-groups seems to be a hardwired facet of human nature.30 Conflict between in- and out-groups is inevitable, inasmuch as they compete for the same material and social resources. This is doubly so when the legitimacy of one group precludes the legitimacy of the other. In such a context, the conflict becomes necessary to the maintenance of group identity and cohesion. As constant as this reality is in , we must also recognize that the construction of specific in- and out-groups is a historically contingent process. To understand one facet of how these groups come to be it is helpful to make a distinction between symbolic and social boundaries. Michèle Lamont and Virág Volnár offer clearest and most concise definition of these terms:

Symbolic boundaries are conceptual distinctions made by social actors to categorize objects, people, practices, and even time and space. They are tools by which individuals and groups struggle over and come to agree upon definitions of reality. Examining them allows us to capture the dynamic dimensions of social relations, as groups compete in the production, diffusion, and institutionalization of alternative systems and principles of classifications. Symbolic boundaries also

30 Steven Pinker, The Blank Slate: The Modern Denial of Human Nature (New York: Viking, 2002), 39.

24 separate people into groups and generate feelings of similarity and group membership (Epstein 1992, p. 232). They are an essential medium through which people acquire status and monopolize resources. Social boundaries are objectified forms of social differences manifested in unequal access to and unequal distribution of resources (material and nonmaterial) and social opportunities. They are also revealed in stable behavioral patterns of association, as manifested in connubiality and commensality. Only when symbolic boundaries are widely agreed upon can they take on a constraining character and pattern social interaction in important ways. Moreover, only then can they become social boundaries, i.e., translate, for instance, into identifiable patterns of social exclusion or class and racial segregation (e.g., Massey & Denton 1993, Stinchcombe 1995, Logan et al. 1996). But symbolic and social boundaries should be viewed as equally real: The former exist at the intersubjective level whereas the latter manifest themselves as groupings of individuals. At the causal level, symbolic boundaries can be thought of as a necessary but insufficient condition for the existence of social boundaries (Lamont 1992, Ch. 7).31

In a modern context, the notion of symbolic boundaries which are “widely agreed upon

[…] tak[ing] on a constraining character and pattern[ing] social interaction” may immediately invoke categories of race, class, ideology, party, and a host of other distinctions. But those familiar with late-antiquity will immediately recognize how this can be applied to the factions which form in relation to religious controversy. In late- antiquity, adherence to or rejection of a given council draws boundaries between individuals and groups of people. Over time, if controversy over a given council persists, it can determine one's legal status, as well as one’s access to material, political, cultural, and social goods. It becomes a 'social fact,' in the Durkheimian sense. The negotiation of such symbolic boundaries, therefore, is of the utmost importance and represents one of the primary fields of competition between groups in the periods. The marginalization of one's in-group under such circumstances can be costly and even dangerous in a very

31 Michele Lamont and Virág Molnár, “The Study of Boundaries Across the Social Sciences,” Annual Review of Sociobiology 28 (2002), 169.

25 literal sense.

An Overview

It is possible to account for the apparent incoherence of Justinian’s religious policy in this period. To do so, we must create an account which includes and appreciates the embeddedness of imperial policy within a social context with two key features. First, we must bear in mind the shifting interests and information available to the individual agents through and over whom the emperor hoped to project influence. Second, we must identify the shifting and hardening symbolic and social boundaries established through the interactions of these same, competing agents. When this social context is accounted for, Justinian's approach appears as that of a rational actor, having incomplete information, with consistent policy goals, working within inconsistent constraints to achieve those goals.

The period of 520-543 is a period when clear symbolic boundaries are established between Chalcedonian and anti-Chalcedonian. We cannot say this is the case before, because the boundaries of what it means to be either a Chalcedonian or an anti-

Chalcedonian are still contested and do not begin to harden until the libellus of

Hormisdas.32 Justinian enters a situation where matters still seem to be in flux. In this context the networked features whereby information (i.e. symbol sets) are transmitted are especially important, since not only is it not always clear who is on which side, but even what the sides are can be uncertain. Justinian has a consistent approach and aims: pursue a unity that formally upholds both Cyril and Chalcedon and persuades both Rome and the

32 Menze, 58-105.

26 east to offer a positive assent. Yet neither his formal position nor his informal influence means that he is able to unilaterally determine the options open to him. Other actors are able to shape the options available to Justinian and this fact has a profound impact on the concrete form imperial policy will take. In short, although Justinian consistently chooses the option closest to the aims and approach mentioned above, he has no choice over the options actually available to him. Imperial religious policy is necessary circumscribed by the social context in which it is embedded.

In the first two chapters, we see the negotiation of a common symbolic boundary with Rome and we see how much this negotiation depends upon the network position of key nodes of information transmission. In the third chapter, we find an attempt to negotiate similarly with the anti-Chalcedonians. To do this, the emperor places key individuals in direct contact with one another to facilitate cooperation and common understanding. There is blow-back with Agapetus's unplanned arrival, however, since these boundaries are much more rigid for him. Indeed, his presence and the deposition of

Anthimus necessitate the definition and hardening of boundaries in Constantinople. 536 is the moment symbolic boundaries harden completely and social boundaries follow shortly thereafter. Chapter 4 sees Justinian’s efforts in this new environment. He would like to seek a solution, such as the Three Chapters condemnation (and the concomitant condemnation of Origen), but it is to no avail because of the social boundaries now present. Within this context, Justinian’s efforts through the apocrisarius Pelagius become mere power-projection. Pelagius, in his travels about the Mediterranean, is now policing social boundaries, i.e. the “objectified forms of social differences manifested in unequal

27 access to and unequal distribution of resources (material and nonmaterial) and social opportunities.”33

A Note on Nomenclature

Nomenclature applied to those who opposed the in this period remains a potentially thorny issue. The motives of those who reject the old term

'monophysite' are worthy and their criticims are fair.34 But this leaves us in search of a fairer, more accurate, and still useful term. Volker Menze avoids the term 'miaphysite' as his “book deals mainly with historical and not Christological issues.”35 This present study follows the same reasoning, but I cannot on these grounds join in his rejection of the term

'anti-Chalcedonian'. Menze's case against the term is that it “gives the impression that the later so-called Syrian Orthodox defined themselves and established their church against this council”.36 Unlike Menze's work, however, we do not here take the Syrian Orthodox as our subject, so the risk he identifies is greatly mitigated. Regardless, a similar criticism might be applied to the seemingly neutral and unmodified term 'Chalcedonian'. Were we to base our present terminology on how the various factions of the period self-identify, we would be forced to describe multiple groups with the label 'orthodox'. No one in the

33 Lamont and Molnár, 168. 34 See D. Winkler, “: A New Term for Use in the History of Dogma and in Ecumenical Theology,” The Harp 10 (1997): 33-40. 35 Menze, 2. 36 He also adds that “it again gives dogmatic discussions more weight than they should have.” Ibid. 2-3. I certainly agree that this could be a risk, but it isn't clear how the term 'non-Chalcedonian' avoids this risk. We cannot avoid dogmatic using either the 'non-' or 'anti-' prefix inasmuch as it's the 'Chalcedonian' part of the label that introduces them. Of course, although we are both dealing in historical matters, perhaps the risk of introducing dogmatic discussions is not so great a danger to ecclesiastical history that we ought to go to great lengths to avoid it.

28 period, not even the Chalcedonians, truly thought of themselves as being defined by support of or opposition to that council. For its supporters, Chalcedon merely affirmed the faith held everywhere and by all since the time of the apostles. For its detractors,

Chalcedon denied the faith once delivered to the . Both parties reckoned themselves the defenders of the apostolic deposit, and councils were only defensible as conservative reactions to heretical innovations. In such a context, if 'Chalcedonian' means anything other than 'Nicene' or 'Apostolic', its use is just as delegitimating as 'anti-Chalcedonian',

'non-Chalcedonian', or even 'monophysite'. It makes little sense, therefore, to rely on self- identification among the period's factions (or their descendants) as the standard by which to judge such terms.

The standard used here will be one of respectful practicality. I am not interested in using language which would attack the legitimacy of any faction. Indeed a key idea in this work is that language, especially labels, can be and often is employed by polemicists to create and eventually define boundaries between groups of people. The labels I do employ are so used out of the necessity to identify different groups of actors in the historical context I am here discussing. In this case, both sides agree at the time that

Chalcedon is the chief point of contention. While neither formally identifies themselves in relation to that council, their actions relative toward one another were justified by support or opposition thereto. Thus, use of the terms 'Chalcedonian' and 'anti-

Chalcedonian' here are merely intended as practical descriptors of each group of actors based upon the actions which most clearly delineate them.

29 Chapter 1: Resolving the Acacian Schism

In the introduction I claimed that many of the apparent inconsistencies in Justinian’s religious policies which have puzzled scholars can be best understood if we correctly understand how the relationship between position and influence affected those policies.

But before we begin to understand how position and influence relate, we must first understand precisely what they are within the sixth-century context. We are fortunate, therefore, to have available to us an incident at the inception of Justin's reign that will make the meaning and importance of position abundantly clear. Given the new emperor's

Chalcedonian loyalties, it would be easy to regard the reunion which took place between

Rome and Constantinople as a foregone conclusion, but this was not the case. An end to the Acacian schism acceptable to both parties was achieved in part through the careful manipulation of the formal and informal connections between the representatives of

Rome and Constantinople during the negotiations.

The Acacian Schism under Anastasius: An Uncomfortable Conversation

The emperor Anastasius inherited from his predecessor, , a difficult set of circumstances. The doctrinal controversies of the fifth century had intensified with each successive attempt to bring about consensus, compromise, or at least clear victory for one side. By the time Zeno began his reign, the councils of Ephesus, Second Ephesus, and

Chalcedon had already divided the oikoumene. It would seem that little hope could be placed in another council to heal divisions rent by councils. Yet strife among

Chalcedonians and anti-Chalcedonians of all stripes could threaten an emperor’s peace, as the short reign of the reckless would show. Zeno therefore searched for

30 some practical means to secure peace in his time.

The dilemma Zeno faced was clear and would persist well after his time. The council of Chalcedon could not be rejected. The bishops of Rome held Chalcedon as the faith of the apostles, for at Chalcedon the so-called Tome of Pope Leo, excluded altogether from Ephesus II, had been formally declared the faith of Peter and the

Apostles.37 The of Constantinople and Jerusalem also had good reason to favor the council of Chalcedon, whose canons ensured their positions in what would later be called the .38 Both patriarchs knew also that rejection of Chalcedon would

37 “After reading of the aforesaid letter the most devout bishops exclaimed: ‘This is the faith of the fathers. This is the faith of the apostles. We all believe accordingly. We orthodox believe accordingly. Anathema to him who does not believe accordingly! Peter has uttered through Leo. The apostles taught accordingly. Leo taught piously and truly. Cyril taught accordingly. Eternal is the memory of Cyril. Leo and Cyril taught the same. Leo and Cyril taught accordingly. Anathema to him who does not believe accordingly! This is the true faith. We orthodox think accordingly. This is the faith of the fathers. Why was this not read out at Ephesus. Dioscorus concealed it.’” The Acts of the Council of Chalcedon, trans. R. Price and M. Gaddis (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2007), 2:24-25. 38 The of Constantinople could never forget the rank and prestige granted by Canon 28: “The fathers appropriately accorded privileges to the see of Senior Rome because it was the imperial city and, moved by the same intent, the 150 most God-beloved bishops assigned equal privileges to the most of New Rome, rightly judging that the city which is honoured with the imperial government and the senate and enjoys equal privileges with imperial Senior Rome should be exalted like her in ecclesiastical affairs as well, being second after her, with the consequence that the metropolitans alone of the Pontic, Asian and Thracian dioceses, and also the bishops from the aforesaid dioceses in lands, are to be consecrated by the aforesaid most holy see of the most holy church at Constantinople, while, of course, each metropolitan of the aforesaid dioceses, together with the bishops of the province, ordains the bishops of the province, as is laid down in the divine canons.” Price, Chalcedon, 3.76. Roman criticism of the Canon 28 notwithstanding, the important point for the moment is the motivation the canon offered to the Patriarch of Constantinople to support, or at least not to oppose, the council. Jerusalem’s patriarch had like motivation to maintain the council, for although Chalcedon did not rank Jerusalem about any other

31 produce opposition from local monastic communities and the patriarch of Constantinople could also anticipate the ire of his city’s people. Neither could the council of Chalcedon be accepted. The bishops in , Syria, and the East had rejected the council as a betrayal of Cyril’s legacy. That monks and bishops such as Philoxenus of Mabbög could rise to prominence through vociferous opposition against what was elsewhere proclaimed an indicates the tenor of the age. Facing two equally distasteful options, Zeno sought after a third.

To address this dilemma, Zeno crafted what seemed a clever policy for a time.

Ultimately, however, his policy would run afoul of the very problems he had sought to avoid. In 482, the emperor wrote a letter, drafted on the advice of the Patriarch Acacius of

Constantinople, to the bishops, , monks and of Alexandria, Egypt, Libya and

Pentapolis, a letter known as the , or Edict of Unity. The Henotikon is a document consciously constructed either to satisfy or at least to avoid offending as many parties as possible. Zeno bookends the contents of the letter’s body with declarations of loyalty to the Nicene-Constantinopolitan confession.39 This, it might be hoped, was the

patriarchate, at least it numbered Jerusalem among the five patriarchs. 39 After the salutation, he begins, “We know that the origin and composition, the power and irresistible shield of our empire is the sole correct and truthful faith, which through divine guidance the 318 holy Fathers assembled at Constantinople confirmed it.” Evagrius , EH, III.14; trans. Michael Whitby, The Ecclesiastical History of Evagrius Scholasticus (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2000, 147. He concludes thus: “Accordingly, join with the Church, the spiritual mother, enjoying the same sacred communion in it as us, in accordance with the aforesaid one and only de¢nition of the faith of the 318 holy Fathers. For our all-holy mother the Church is eagerly awaiting to embrace you as legitimate sons, and yearns to hear your sweet and long-awaited voice. Therefore hasten yourselves, for in doing this you will both attract to yourselves the goodwill of our Lord God and Saviour Christ and be praised by our imperial rule.” EH, III.14; trans. ibid. 149.

32 common ground of orthodox Christianity upon which all parties could unite. Yet he recognized that this alone would be insufficient. The bulk of the letter takes into account the developments which had occurred since the council of Constantinople. It anathematizes and , lionizes , and confesses the

Virgin Mary as . All of this, including the rejection of Eutyches, represents a mainstream position acceptable both to those who accept and who deny the authority of

Chalcedon.

Offering such a broadly acceptable position seems at first to have been well calculated. The sees of Alexandria, , and Jerusalem all accepted it, although in some cases acceptance was not immediate.40 Yet in spite its early victories, the Henotikon would prove a sign of contradiction. Most of the document carefully avoids mention of

Chalcedon but the issue had to be addressed. To avoid offense to either Chalcedonian or anti-Chalcedonian, Zeno chose highly ambiguous language.

We have written this not in order to make innovations in the faith but so as to reassure you. But we anathematize anyone who has thought, or thinks, any other opinion, either now or at any time, whether at Chalcedon or at any whatsoever, and especially the aforesaid Nestorius and Eutyches and those who hold their opinions.41

The strategy here is fairly clear. A Chalcedonian sympathetic to the cause of unity could potentially accept the above passage. From the Chalcedonian perspective, Chalcedon had added nothing to the faith but had only reaffirmed the unanimous witness of the fathers

40 F. K. Haarer, Anastasius I: Politics and Empire in the Late Roman World (Cambridge: Francis Cairns, 2006), 124. Acceptance in Alexandria had to await the elevation of Peter Mongus as bishop of Alexandria. Likewise in Antioch, Calandion would be deposed to be replaced with who would accept the Henotikon. See also EH, III.15-16. 41 EH, III.14; trans. Whitby, 149.

33 while anathematizing heretical novelties, such as those of Eutyches. On this reading, “any

Synod whatsoever” would exonerate the Henotikon from singling out Chalcedon even as the condemnation of Eutyches and the affirmation of Cyril would be taken as a confirmation of Chalcedon’s intent. A sympathetic anti-Chalcedonian could of course take the inverse reading. Although Chalcedon is not itself condemned, the anathematization of Nestorius and anyone who contrary to Cyril, which is to say anything contrary to the apostolic faith, gives some that Chalcedon is not used to advance Nestorian . Thus read, the phrase “whether at Chalcedon” becomes a tacit admission that the council could be read as supporting the enemies of Cyril. The studied ambiguity of this excerpt stands in sharp relief to the self-consciously Cyrillian contents of the letter. The practical effect of the letter was to treat Chalcedon as a disciplinary council held to condemn Nestorius and Eutyches, whom Chalcedonian and anti-Chalcedonian alike reviled.42 “It was,” Frend says, “a masterstroke of Acacian diplomacy. [...] It came as near as any other attempt before or afterwards to uniting the of the great churches in the east.43”

It was, hindsight shows, an utter failure. The sympathetic reading offered above, it must be admitted, is very sympathetic. The only party likely to maintain such a reading is that which values unity above all else. But this is not the chief value of most parties involved. The anti-Chalcedonians of Zeno’s time were only willing to offer the

Henotikon the most reluctant support. Peter Mongus, bishop of Alexandria, was forced to explain publicly that, while he accepted communion with Constantinople, it was because

42 Frend, 179. 43 Loc. cit.

34 he understood its endorsement of Cyril’s twelve chapters and anathematization of

Nestorius, Eutyches, and “every other who would assert the duality of the Natures in

Christ” as a nullification of Chalcedon. That this was contrary to the actual intent of the

Henotikon, which was rather to ignore than to nullify Chalcedon, was obvious to many around Peter. “When these events had taken place, only a few monks joined with Peter

[...]44” This was a polite reception compared to how the Henotikon fared elsewhere. It was accepted in Antioch only after the deposition of Calandion, who had rejected it as anti-Chalcedonian. Calandion was removed for his collaboration with the habitual turncoat Illus and replaced in 484 with the sometime Patriarch, Peter the Fuller. Only thus was the Henotikon accepted in Antioch.

But the Henotikon had the most unfortunate consequences for the relationship between Constantinople and Rome. This relationship was already troubled in part, we should note, by failures in communication, but also by mutual suspicion. As Frend succinctly explains:

Rome meantime had been caught off balance. As we have noted, in the autumn of 477 Acacius had informed Pope Simplicius of the evil ways of Peter Mongus and confirmed his support for the Chalcedonian Timothy in fulsome terms. He had prevailed on Rome to excommunicate Peter [...] A year later, however, Simplicius may have been beginning to suspect that Acacius was coming round to accepting Peter, for he demanded the latter’s removal ‘far off’. He was not prepared to [182] tolerate him even in his original office as a . [...] [A]nd now Acacius’ seemingly complete volte-face with his recognition of Peter Mongus appeared like an act of gross treachery. ‘Even if he [Peter] were now orthodox, he should be admitted to lay communion only.’ This was written on 15 July 482, a fortnight before the Henotikon. The papacy, however, was out of touch with the situation and it is not known how the emperor’s decree was received in Rome.45

44 The Chronicle of Pseudo-Zachariah Rhetor: Church and War in Late Antiquity, trans. Geoffrey Greatrex (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2011), VI.2.c. 45 Frend, 181-82.

35 This suspicion would not be helped in Simplicius’ life, as he died in early 483. Nor would the issues of communication be addressed. Simplicius had complained of

Constantinople’s failure to keep him apprised of developments in the East.46 It cannot have helped suspicions when his successor, Felix III, was informed of recent events, not through official correspondences from Constantinople, but by the Akoimetoi. Failure to communicate breeds suspicion and undermine trust. When Acacius continued to remain out of touch, Felix sent a delegation to Constantinople. It is little surprise, therefore, that all these suspicions should seem justified when one of the legates took communion, only to hear the names of Dioscorus and Peter Mongus commemorated in the diptychs. Upon the delegation's return, Acacius was excommunicated by a synod in Rome.47 The Acacian schism, as it would be known, would last from 484 until 519. The fruit of Acacian diplomacy was suspicion and the sharpest division between Rome and Constantinople until the ninth century.

This Acacian schism remained the dominant factor in Romano-Constantinopolitan relations throughout the reign of the emperor Anastasius. During this time, however, the state of relations would not remain static but would rather deteriorate. With the brief background given above, we may now begin to consider the final years of the Acacian schism, as relations between Rome and Constantinople at the end of Anastasius’ reign finally and completely collapsed. These years are particularly interesting for anyone wanting to examine negotiations between the emperor and prominent bishops as they were actually practiced in late antiquity. Much occurs in this period, as in all periods,

46 Ibid., 182 fn. 4. 47 Ibid., 182 fn. 6.

36 behind closed doors. Agreements occurring within the ritualized setting of a council can be placed in minutes as a fait accompli and details often suffer more confusion and manipulation once they have become subjected to chroniclers or historians. But the record of this negotiation comes down to us chiefly in the form of letters. Letters are never frank and open conversations, and they are borne by those who likely have more information to convey, yet in them we have better information on the course of a negotiation than we might hope from other sources.

The letters passed back and forth between Rome and Constantinople in this period provide a vivid record of the collapse in Romano-Constantinopolitan relations. Most importantly for our purposes, they will provide a clear contrast with those from the early reign of Justin. Given what we have seen of the relationship between the imperial court and the papacy so far, it is perhaps unsurprising that relations should deteriorate to the point of collapse. This is particularly the case in light of events which quickly prompted a flurry of communication between Old and New Rome.

Vitalian as Champion of Orthodoxy

In 513, Vitalian, a comes in , began a revolt against the emperor

Anastasius. He led his against , of Thrace, on the very traditional grounds that Hypatius and the emperor had failed to give the foederati the supplies due them.48 This rebellion would persist for the remainder of Anastasius’ reign.

Vitalian would prove a successful rebel in the sense that he survived, but more to the point in that he was occasionally able to extort concessions from the emperor. The details

48 PLRE 2.1172.

37 of the rebellion need not concern us here, but for one important aspect.49 Vitalian justified his as an orthodox rebellion, supporting this claim by pressing the emperor into new negotiations with Rome. With Vitalian, we come to a pattern in scholarship we shall see repeated several times in this dissertation. Scholarly reaction to this justification has been mixed but may be divided into two general camps of those who would take it on face value and those who would reject it as a cynical manipulation of Balkan religious sentiments toward political ends. In this section, we must give due consideration to the dichotomy between Vitalian as champion of orthodoxy and Vitalian as champion of his own ambition, asking what Vitalian's motivation was.

Scholarly Perspectives on Vitalian's Motives

Relatively little work has been done on Vitalian himself since he is most often discussed, as here, in the context of work on the more prominent figures of the sixth century. In more general works, his entire career may be covered with scarcely more than a sentence. Even so, such a sentence often reveals much about its author.50 Therefore, along with the more direct treatments of Vitalian's motivations, we will take a look at some of the more prominent declarations on the matter.

Of the older scholarship, one cannot neglect the views of J. B. Bury and Peter

49 For details on the successes and failures of Vitalian’s rebellion, see Bury, 1.447-452 for the most readable account; PLRE 2.1171-1176 for helpful references; and Haarer, 164-179 for a recent treatment. 50 Perhaps the most interesting example of this comes from who takes three sentences to cover Vitalian's “pious rebellion” carried out with an army chiefly comprised of idolaters. In the final of these he concludes with typical declarative irony: “And such was the event of the first of the religious wars which have been waged in the name and by the disciples, of the God of peace.” The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Vol. II, Chapter 47.

38 Charanis. Bury presents Vitalian as an opportunist, but a predictable one. Anastasius' religious and economic policies had made him few friends, particularly in the , and therefore “it was not surprising that an ambitious soldier should conceive the hope of dethroning him.51” Even Hypatius' failure to deliver supplies to the foederati is treated as a “pretext” for Vitalian's revolt.52 So it is little surprise that Bury should regard the count as merely, “pretend[ing] to represent the religious discontent, to voice orthodox indignation at the new form of the , and to champion the cause of the deposed

Patriarch Flavian who was his personal friend, and the deposed Patriarch Macedonius.53”

Bury’s way of looking at Vitalian's motivation is not limited to himself. Charanis presents Vitalian thus: “Hoping to utilize the religious discontent of the western provinces and of the capital, he declared in favor of the deposed bishops and made himself the champion of orthodoxy.”54 Although he notes Vitalian's connections to Flavian and the pro-Chalcedonian (whom we shall have ample opportunity to discuss later), these are treated as secondary in importance, for “the real object of his revolt was nothing less than the deposition of Anastasius and his own elevation to the imperial throne.55” Charanis seems to have arrived at this explanation because it is offered by the sources themselves, which often attribute Vitalian's rebellion to opportunism.56

51 Bury, 1.447. 52 Ibid., 1.448. 53 Loc. cit. 54 Peter Charanis, Church and State in the Later Roman Empire: The Religious Policy of Anastasius the First, 491-518 (Madison, Wisconsin: University of Wisconsin Press, 1939), 52. 55 Ibid. 56 Charanis does not himself argue for the point. He states it and footnotes comments made in the sources (sources which we shall discuss below) and moves on, regarding the testimony of ancient commentators as sufficient to prove the point. Doubtless he felt no need to belabor the point, his focus being

39 Vasiliev carried the thesis of Vitalian's opportunism into the second half of the twentieth century. Because his focus is on the reign of Justin, Vasiliev's discussion of

Vitalian is limited, but it is explicit. Vitalian was “posing as a ardent champion of orthodoxy and an energetic opponent of the monophysite policy of Anastasius”.57 He did so because the areas under his control were themselves pro-Chalcedonian. “But his orthodox championship was only the outward pretext for the revolt. His real object was to dethrone Anastasius and become emperor himself.58” One of the few writers from the twentieth century to display any ambivalence on the question is Patrick Gray, who linked

Vitalian's Chalcedonianism to his Balkan extraction but did not find it necessary to link this to any charges of opportunism.59

Insistence on Vitalian's cynical opportunism has only increased with the new century. In her careful study of the reign of Anastasius I, Fiona K. Haarer acknowledged that the sources record the religious and fiscal justification for Vitalian's revolt.60 Citing

Bury, Charanis, and Vasiliev, however, Haarer is able to pronounce upon Vitalian's motives with some certainty. “[T]hat [Vitalian] simply manipulated the religious discord and utilised the dissatisfaction of the foederati under his care and genuine poverty of the rural population in order to bring about the deposition of Anastasius seems indisputable.61” For Haarer, Vitalian's later behavior only reaffirms this conclusion.

chiefly on the policies of Anastasius rather than the psychological state of Vitalian. 57 A. A. Vasiliev, Justin the First: An Introduction to the Epoch of Justinian the Great (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1950), 108. 58 Vasiliev, 109. 59 Patrick Gray, The Defense of Chalcedon in the East (451-553), Studies in the History of Christian Thought XX (E.J. Brill: Leiden, 1979), 41-2. 60 Haarer, 165. 61 Haarer, 165 fn. 235.

40 Vitalian remained an exile until after the death of Anastasius in 518; but he was recalled to Constantinople under Justin's edict granting pardon to all those banished by his predecessor. If there was any doubt about the sincerity of Vitalian's supposed motives for revolt, it is clear from his behaviour in the early years of Justin's reign that ambition for imperial power had been his ultimate goal. In his negotiations with Anastasius, apart from the first settlement when he demanded the removal of the unpopular Hypatius from office, the financial claims of the foederati are entirely ignored. Instead, Vitalian focused on the theological issues, and it was the promotion of strict orthodoxy which was his main concern under Justin. On his recall from exile, he demanded assurances of faith from both Justin and Justinian. The popularity he gained from his violent persecution of the monophysites made him a dangerous rival to Justinian, who contrived to murder him in July, 520. As under Anastasius, Vitalian's ambition was only very thinly cloaked by his championship of orthodoxy.62

This view is not without some difficulties. First, the financial claims of the foederati were hardly ignored. Vitalian's victories in the field made it possible for him to pay his troops directly. In his negotiations with Anastasius, Vitalian was able to secure 9,000 pounds of gold in exchange for the captured Hypatius, as well as Hypatius' newly vacant position as magister militum.63 Together, these are precisely the actions we would expect Vitalian to take to address the fiscal concerns of the foederati. It is difficult to see what more Vitalian could have done if paying the foederati and taking the office of one who had failed to pay them was insufficient. Second, with the financial concerns of the foederati addressed,

Vitalian did indeed shift his focus to religious matters. But here, continued religious concerns and even the fact of his assassination are held against Vitalian as evidence of his cynicism toward religion. These events can be read as the deeds of a calculating and power-hungry individual, but only if one begins with the assumption that ambition was his only possible motivation.

Volker L. Menze's recent Justinian and the Making of the Syrian Orthodox

62 Haarer, 179. 63 Bury, 1.450.

41 Church offers some discussion of Vitalian's motives as well. Much of this discussion, however, falls within a broader discussion of Justin's Chalcedonianism, a topic we will pick up shortly. For the moment it is enough to note that Menze says Vitalian “marched against the city several times between 513 and 517 under the pretext that Anastasius was not orthodox.”64

The consensus on Vitalian's cynical opportunism seems overwhelming. Before turning to the sources to consider whether it's justified, however, one final work deserves consideration, if for no other reason than the fact that it takes a different view. In a recent article, Dan Ruscu arrives at this novel conclusion:

Accordingly, Vitalian must be regarded as a Romano-Gothic national of mixed race from , who defended the interests of his native province. In the religious conflict in which he became involved, Vitalian is thus the political instrument of the Scythian , who defends first Orthodoxy against a Monophysite Emperor, and later becomes a factor of political pressure, defending Eastern tradition against Rome's exaggerated demands.65

I would offer some criticism of Ruscu's position, but before so doing I should like to point out that he takes a unique and even refreshing approach to the question. Up to this point, most authors have treated it as a given that politics and religion are somehow antithetical, that a man's religious convictions can only be genuine insofar as he does not act on them in a way that it renders him political benefit. But Ruscu never treats political

64 Menze, 23. But see also pg. 21 and fn. 29. Though it is stated as fact on pg. 23, here Menze presents it only as a possibility that the conflict over Chalcedon was a pretext. Of course, the issue is not central to Menze's argument inasmuch as the threat of the Chalcedonian Vitalian largely functions to explain Justin's Chalcedonianism. Justin's Chalcedonian loyalties, and Menze's view that they were largely a matter of convenience, are discussed below. 65 Dan Ruscu, “The Revolt of Vitalianus in the “Scythian Controversy,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift, Bd. 101, Nr. 2 (2009): 785.

42 and religious motives as exclusive. Nor really is it self-evident that these two should conflict. We are reminded elsewhere that politics in the Eastern Roman Empire have a religious and even theological quality and that they cannot, therefore, be properly treated as independent.66 Unfortunately, the standard narrative for many periods of late-antique and Byzantine history has yet to work out the implications of this insight fully.

Because he appears only briefly on the historical stage, it can be easy to overlook the question of Vitalian's motives. Indeed, it is all the easier to do so when Vitalian seems to fit so easily within anyone's preexisting view of human motivation. If one wishes to see him as a cynical opportunist, the opinions of our sources may be cited directly. If one wishes to see him as a deeply dedicated Chalcedonian, his apparent constancy on this point may be cited. A look at the sources will make abundantly clear why this is so.

Vitalian's Motives in the Sources

The most noticeable thing about the treatment of Vitalian in the sources is how little he is sometimes treated. Evagrius Scholasticus says remarkably little on the matter considering Vitalian's later importance to the Chalcedonian cause.67 Of most interest to

66 Thus we find in H. G. Beck, Kirche und Theologische Literatur im Byzantinische Reich, 1: “Kirche und Staat bilden nicht zwei nebeneinander stehende selbständige “Gewalten”, stehen freilich auch nicht im Verhältnis der Über- und Unterordnung zueinander, sondern bilden eine mystische Einheit, zwei Aspekte desselben Lebens erlöster Christen. Reichsgeschichte ist zugleich Kirchengeschischte, und entscheidende Impulse der Politik sind religiöser, ja theologische Natur.” 67 The passage dealing with Vitalian's rebellion is so short, it may be conveniently quoted in full: “There rebelled against Anastasius Vitalian, a Thracian by race, who after ravaging Thrace and as far as Odessus and Anchialus pressed on to the imperial city with an innumerable horde of Hunnic tribes. The emperor sent Hypatius to meet him. And after Hypatius was betrayed by his own men, taken captive, and released for a large ransom, Cyril undertook the campaign. At first the battle was evenly balanced, and

43 our question at the moment, is that Evagrius assigns a motivation to Vitalian, claiming that he had “nothing else in his thoughts than to capture the city itself and to control the empire.68”

Marcellinus Comes too offers only a short treatment of events, but such is not unusual for Marcellinus. This chronicler is of special interest, inasmuch as he offers

Vitlian's justification for rebellion.

After arranging his contingents from one sea across to the other he himself advanced up to the Golden Gate (as it is called) without losing a single man, while maintaining ostensibly that he had approached Constantinople on behalf of Macedonius the bishop of the city, exiled without reason by the emperor Anastasius.69

Macedonius, as noted above, was Vitalian's uncle.70 Malalas agrees that Vitalian cited the

then it experienced various alternations in pursuits and retreats; although Cyril had held the upper hand, a pursuit had to turn back on itself when his soldiers allowed themselves to be defeated. And in this way Vitalian took Cyril captive from Odessus and pushed his advance as far as the place called Sycae, ravaging everything, burning everything, having nothing else in his thoughts than to capture the city itself and to control the empire. “When this man had encamped at Sycae, Marinus the Syrian, whom we mentioned before, was sent by the emperor with a naval force to do battle with Vitalian. And so the two forces met, the one with Sycae astern, the other with Constantinople. And at first they remained stationary, but then, after sallies and exchanges of missiles between the two contingents, a fierce naval battle was joined near the place called Bytharia; after backing water, Vitalian fled precipitately, losing the majority of his force, while his associates fled so quickly that on the morrow not a single enemy was found in the vicinity of Anaplus or the city. They say that Vitalian then remained for some time at Anchialus, keeping quiet. Another Hunnic race also made an incursion, after crossing the Cappadocian Gates.” EH, III.43; Whitby trans., 194. 68 Loc. cit. 69 “[…] dispositisque a mari in mare suorum ordinibus ipse ad usque portam, quae aurea dicitur, sine ullius dispendio, scillicet pro orthodoxorum se fide proque Macedonio urbis episcopo incassum ab Anastasio principe exulato Constantinopolim accessisse asserens.” , The Chronicle of Marcellinus Comes: A and Commentary, Brian Croke, trans. (Sydney: Australian Association for Byzantine Studies, 2005), a. 514.1. 70 Vide supra, fn. 20.

44 deposition of Macedonius as his motivation for rebellion, saying, “During [Anastasius'] reign the Thracian Vitalian rebelled, allegedly giving the banishment of the bishops as a pretext.71” Malalas goes on to concur with Evagrius that Vitalian, “wanted to take

Constantinople itself”, a claim supported by his approach to the city.

Anti-Chalcedonian sources also offer some perspective on the matter. Pseudo-

Zacharias discusses the fact that Vitalian, a warlike and cunning general, rebelled against

Anastasius, but assigns no particular motive for so-doing.72 John of Nikiu, on the other hand, is insistent upon Vitalian's motives.

And Vitalian, moreover, who was commander of the troops in the province of Thrace, being a man of perverse heart, hated Severus the of God. Now the emperor Anastasius had appointed Severus in the room of the heretic Flavian, whom he had banished, when the orthodox bishops of the east testified in the favour of the former.73

Such are the claims of our sources on Vitalian's motives. Both the sources and the scholarly treatments undervalue a key to understanding Vitalian's actions. We are never isolated individuals, abstracted from human relationships. We are, in large part, who we have connections with. It is an odd sort of thing to regard a man as exploiting a situation simply out of imperial ambition when the soldiers under his command, the religious sentiments of many of his countrymen, and indeed some his own personal connections and patrons had suffered under the present emperor's rule. Certainly we may say that this situation made it possible for an ambitious soldier to indulge in a revolt, but given the

71 , The Chronicle of John Malalas, Books VIII-XVIII, Glanville Downey and Matthew Spinka, trans. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1940) XVI.402. 72 PZ, 8.13. 73 John of Nikiu, The Chronicle of John, Bishop of Nikiu, Robert Henry Charles, trans. (London: Text and Translation Society, 1916) 89.72. John reiterates Vitalian's hatred of Severus as a key motive for his character at 90.7-8.

45 duties owed to patrons and clients alike we would be equally justified in saying that the situation made revolt necessary. The commander who does not feed his troops will not long retain their loyalty. The nephew and godson of pro-Chalcedonian patriarchs deposed by Anastasius, Macedonius II of Constantinople and Flavian II of Antioch respectively, can hardly be considered worthy of anyone's loyalty if he does not fight for both them and their creed.74 It cannot be emphasized enough, for our purposes, that Vitalian’s actions were shaped by his personal connections. Dichotomies between categories like politics and theology only obscure the powerful motivations implicit in our place within a social system.

The End of Anastasius

Vitalian demanded what was best for his troops and for his personal connections, the deposed Chalcedonian patriarchs, and thereby became a champion of Chalcedonian orthodoxy. Vitalian's rebellion resulted in an agreement from Anastasius that a council would meet in Heraclea, that the Chalcedonian bishops would be restored, and that communion with Rome would be restored. But Anastasius never held the council and the agreement was not fulfilled. What is worse still for the magister militum, the emperor eventually sent his advisor, Marinus, with a fleet which managed to route Vitalian's.

Vitalian managed to save his life through flight, but he would not be able to directly threaten Anastasius again.

Judging by the final few letters sent between the pope and the emperor before the

74 On Vitalian's relationship to his uncle Macedonius and his godfather Flavian, see, inter alia, PLRE 2.1171; Timothy E. , "Vitalian" in ODB; and Frend, 220.

46 latter's death, the council might not have been particularly productive even if it had occurred. The letters become increasingly combative, culminating in a final angry declaration from Anastasius to Hormisdas: “You may insult and thwart me but you may not command me.75” There were no subsequent communications from Anastasius. Little further could be achieved once relations had reached such a point and once the threat of

Vitalian was marginalized Anastasius had no further incentive to cooperate.

Delegation and Negotiation under Justin

With such an end to dialogue between the pope and the emperor, it is just as well for the sake of unity that Anastasius’ reign would soon draw to a close. There is little chance of returning to negotiation when one leaves them as Anastasius had. After his death in July 519, Anastasius’ position was filled by Justin, a speaker of and a reliable Chalcedonian. With Justin’s accession, there was new hope for an end to the

Acacian schism and negotiations quickly took on a fresh optimism. These negotiations included others in addition to the emperor and the pope, including especially Justin’s nephew and the undoubted intellectual power behind the throne, Justinian. As we shall see, the tenor of the letters gradually change as the connections between the imperial and papal courts build. Since the negotiations were ultimately successful in mending the

Acacian Schism, it will be especially instructive to examine them in close detail. Such a close examination will help us to discover how relationships may be built between individuals and the institutions in which they are embedded through the process of conflict resolution.

75 Trans. here Frend, 233. “Iniuriari et adnullari sustinere possumus, iuberi non possumus.” CA, Letter 138.5.

47 The first of the papal letters are dominated by overt enthusiasm for Justin’s accession and the hope of imminent peace in the church. Yet, subtle hints and cues are contained within the letters showing more than mere congratulation was intended. Amidst their ritualized well-wishing, both sides are carefully determining how to construct a relationship and indicating their own expectations. As we examine the letters, it will be important for us to bear in mind that reading epistulary can give us the false impression of a simple, dyadic relationship between the author and addressee. But in this context, the relationship is always triadic, including the bearer of the letter, often with explicit acknowledgment, alongside sender and recipient. This can be of some consequence, as we shall see.

So it is little wonder that the accession of emperor Justin, an avowed

Chalcedonian and a speaker of Latin, should be welcomed by Hormisdas. The first letter of the new reign was an announcement from the emperor to Pope Hormisdas formally announcing his rise to power.76 The letter is typical of those written in Justin's name. It is short, formal, and formulaic. Claiming he refused the honor, Justin attributed his election instead to the favor of the Senate, Army, nobles, and above all the Holy Trinity.77 He proceeded to request the of the pope, whereby the empire would strengthened. As is usually the case in Late Antique literature, however, the ritualized quality of the letter is significant. The attempted refusal of imperial purple is as much a means of signaling his worthiness to wear it as the announcement and request to the pope showed his

76 CA, Letter 141. 77 “[...] per has sacras declaramus epistolas, quod primum quidem inseparabilis trinitatis fauore, deinde amplissimorum procerum sacri nostri palatii et sanctissimi senatus nec non electione fortissimi exercitus ad imperium nos licet nolentes ac recusantes electos fuisse atque firmatos.” CA, Letter 141.4-8.

48 desire to reestablish regular communication between old and new Rome.

The response to this very straightforward and unassuming announcement was enthusiastic. Hormisdas declared from the beginning his joy at the news and wasted no time before indicating that Justin’s reign would give the church rest after the weariness wrought through controversy.78 Justin would not only satisfy the West, Hormisdas believed, but would also heal the East.

You have restored the first fruits of your empire owed to the blessed apostle Peter, which we accept devoutly for this reason, since we believe without a doubt that the concord of the churches is to be soonest through you. God, who has granted us the wish of speaking to the feelings of your piety, himself will offer his goodwill concerning the pure of his religion, just as we desire.79

Assuring the new emperor that his refusal of power only proves his election by God,

Hormisdas insisted with rhetorical flair that Justin’s efforts would restore peace to the church. “Let them cease,” Hormisdas wrote, “who oppose [God’s] peace; let them rest, who in the guise of shepherds try to disperse the flock of Christ! Their correction establishes the powers of your empire, for where God is rightly honored adversity will be without effect.80” It would not be long until Hormisdas would request that specific groups be corrected, using this same kind of language to influence Justin's actions.

This remarkable response to Justin’s accession deserves some explanation. The

78 “Uenerabilis regni uestri primitiis, fili gloriosissime, loco muneris gratulationem suam catholica transmittit ecclesia, per quos se post tantam discordiae fatigationem requiem pacis inuenire confidit.” CA, Letter 142.1. 79 “debitas beato Petro apostolo imperii uestri primitias reddistis, quas hac ratione deuote suscepimus, quia ecclesiarum per uos proxime futuram credimus sine dubitatione concordiam. deus, qui pietatis uestrae sensibus alloquendi nos uota concessit, ipse circa sincerum religionis suae cultum praestabit, sicut optamus, affectum.” CA, Letter 142.2. 80 “cessent, qui paci eius obsistunt; quiescant, qui in forma pastorum conatur gregem Christi dispergere! istorum correctio uires uestri firmat imperii, quia ubi deus recte colitur, aduersitas non habebit effectum.” CA, Letter 142.4.

49 letter sent to Hormisdas is dated , 518. It was borne by a certain vir spectabilis, named Alexander, who undoubtedly also brought news of what had transpired in the capital upon the death of Anastasius.81 On July 15, less than a week after the emperor’s passing, a mob assembled in Constantinople rejoicing in the name of the new emperor and the orthodox faith. As it is depicted in the sources, the mob had little doubt of the religious loyalties of Justin and demanded the immediate proclamation of Chalcedon.82

Offered a choice between abdication on the one hand and the confession of Chalcedon and anathematization of Severus, “the Manichaean” and “the new Judas”, on the other, the patriarch John gave his confession from the ambo. Thereupon the crowd pressed the patriarch until at last he assembled the bishops present in Constantinople that he might pronounce the verdict against Severus while maintaining canonical form.83 John charged that Severus had separated himself from the church by his own actions. By the next day,

81 For what little we know of Alexander, see PLRE 2.57, “Alexander 17”. The events which follow are not recounted in the CA. Our source is a document entitled “Ὅπως ἐκηρύχθησαν ἐν τῆι ἐκκλησίαι αἱ σύνοδοι” quoted in the proceedings of Session V of the Synod of Constantinople (see ACO 3.5.27). This reconstruction follows Jakob Speigl “Synoden im Gefolge der Wende der Religionspolitik unter Kaiser Justinos (518),” Ostkirchliche Studien 45 (1996): 3-20. 82 “τὴν ἁγίαν σύνοδον ἄρτι κήρυξον· ὀρθόδοξος βασιλεύει, τίνα φοβῆσαι; νικᾶι ἡ πίστις τοῦ βασιλέως, νικᾶι ἡ πίστις τῆς αὐγούστας. τοῦ νέου Κωνσταντίνου τολλὰ τὰ ἔτη, τῆς νέας Ελένης πολλὰ τὰ ἔτη· πολλὰ τὰ ἔτη τοῦ πατριάρχου· ἄξιε τῆς τριάδος· Ἰουστῖνε αὔγουστε TVINCAS· [...] τὴν σύνοδον Χαλκηδόνος ἄρτι κήρυξον.” ACO 3.5.27.72,10-17. 83 In addition to unnamed others, the document cites twelve of these bishops are by name: “[...] Θεοφίλου τοῦ θεοφιλεστάτου ἐπισκόπου τῆς Ἡρακλεωτῶν καὶ Θεοδότου [...] τῆς Γαγγρηνῶν καὶ Ὑπατίου [...] τῆς Κλαυδιουπολιτῶν καὶ Ἰωάννου τοῦ [...] Βοσπόρου καὶ Πυθαγόρου [...] τῆς Σινωπέων καὶ Ἰσαακίου [...] Πενταπόλεως τῆς Ἑλλάδος καὶ Ἰωάννου [...] Σεννέων τῆς Παμφύλων χώρας καὶ Ἀμαντίου [...] τῆς Νικοπολιτῶν καὶ Ἀμμωνίου [...] τῆς Ἀβυδηνῶν, Πλάτωνος [...] τῆς Κρατιανῶν, Εὐσταθίου [...] τῆς Φιλαδελφέων καὶ Παλγίου [...] τῆς Αἰζανιτῶν καὶ ἑτέρων θεοφιλεστάτων ἐπισκόπων [...]” ACO 3.5.27.74,4-12.

50 the crowd demanded even more, requiring that the relics of the patriarchs Euphemius and

Macedonius should be returned and that their names should be entered into the diptychs along with those of the four councils and the pope Leo.84 When after many threats the patriarch complied, the mob turned from agitation to rejoicing and a was celebrated.

This story, at least as it appears in the official records, is set only a couple of weeks before the letter to Hormisdas. It is likely, therefore, that in addition to bearing the official announcement of Justin’s accession, Alexander also brought the first word of this change in the official religious position of Constantinople. Such news would readily explain Hormisdas’ enthusiasm. The Constantinopolitan mob achieved much of what he had long desired and, if we are to believe the account, it may have done so at least partly in the name of reunion with Rome.85 Hormisdas would have had good reason, therefore, to be optimistic about his chances of influencing Justin’s policies. This emphasizes the importance of the bearer himself, who was able to communicate to the recipient information which was not always present in the letter. It also serves to remind us how little we sometimes know about negotiations, as they often involve information or offers best left unwritten.

Justin’s announcement, the probable news carried with it, and the response of

84 ACO 3.5.27.75,1-5. 85 The crowd is several times said to have shouted phrases like, “ἀδελφοὶ Χριστιανοὶ μία ψυχή.” (ACO 3.5.27.72,29-30) Speigl seems to interpret this as the crowd’s desire for reunion with Rome. “Eine große Volksmenge empfind den Patriarchen. Sie verlangte von ihm die Kirchengemeinschaft mit Rom, das Bekenntnis der Synode von Chalkedon oder den Rücktritt (27.72,14.20), sie forderte die Exkommunikation des Severos.” Speigl, “Synoden im Gefolge,” 3. Without the specific references to the demand that Leo be added to the diptychs, these phrases would be more ambiguous.

51 Hormisdas served both as a formal introduction between the parties and a signal of willingness to work together. This signaling is important, because it opens the possibility of a different kind of relationship than that which prevailed, or rather failed, between

Hormisdas and the court of Anastasius. This relationship, as we shall see, can develop trust and enable greater cooperation as uncertainty is mitigated.86

With a letter of September 7th, 518, Justin began to get to the details of negotiating a reconciliation with Rome. In addition to introducing an attached letter of the

Patriarch of Constantinople, John the second, Justin claimed that the bishops requested that he contact the pope for the sake of ecclesiastical unity.87 Nothing is mentioned in the letter about the mobs forcing the patriarch's hand, but framing matters this way allows

Justin to present the bishops in Constantinople as desirous of unity and himself as essential to secure that desire. For he goes on to say that he consented to this petition

86 This statement should not be taken to imply that trust is strictly necessary for or coextensive with cooperation. For “cooperation cannot be equated with trust. This is because cooperation may emerge where no trust exists (Axelrod, 1984).” Susan Helper and Mari Sako, “Determinants of trust in supplier relations: Evidence from the automotive industry in Japan and the ,” Journal of Economic Behavior & Organization 34 (1998), 390. Yet the kind of cooperation that prevails where general trust is at low levels is often not desirable to most players involved. For a good example of cooperation under conditions where trust is scarce, see Diego Gambetta, “Mafia: The Price of Distrust,” in Trust: Making and Breaking Cooperative Relations, Diego Gambetta, ed. (Oxford and New York: Basil Blackwell, 1988): 158-75. Under potentially friendlier circumstances, as we have here, trust should be thought of as a catalyst for cooperation. 87 “Iohannes uir beatissimus, huius regiae urbis antistes, et ceteri uiri religiosi episcopi de diuersis locis et ciuitatibus hic reperti nostram serenitatem docuerunt pro concordia ueram et orthodoxam fidem colentium proque unitate uenerabilium eius ecclesiarum litteras tuae sanctitati offerendas confecisse ac magnopere postularunt nostras etiam epistolares paginas super hoc ad eam emanere.” CA, Letter 143.1; Cp. CN, document 549.

52 gladly as he had himself desired this end.88 The letter concludes with an important request:

Moreover, so that the promises of peace, unity, and concord might be more completely disclosed to your Sanctity, appoint some most religious priests, who embrace and desire peace, to come to our most sacred court. Indeed, for this reason we have sent directly Gratus, vir sublimus, our comes sacri consistorii and magister scrinii memoriae, an excellent opinion of whom we have recognized many times before.89

The request that a delegation of priests be sent to Constantinople has several purposes.

One might imagine the advantages for Constantinople of having papal representatives at its disposal, as subsequent history demonstrates the willingness of the court to use apocrisarii and indeed resident popes to their own ends. Indeed, in a contemporary letter to Hormisdas, Justinian even requests that pope Hormisdas himself should come to

Constantinople, foreshadowing a strategy for exercising influence that would remain constant throughout Justinian's reign.90 The request was pointedly ignored by the pope.

Yet the purpose expressed in Justin's letter is for what we would call 'transparency' in contemporary political rhetoric. The presence of priests who represent papal interests in

88 “quorum petitiones, utpote semper unitatis amatores constituti, libenter amplexi hos diuinos apices ad tuam beatitudem sensuimus prorogandos, quibus sesceptis desideriis supra dictorum reuerentissimorum antistitum subuenire proque nobis et re publica [...]” CA, Letter 143.2. 89 “ut autem tuae sancitati pacis et unitatis atque concordiae iura plenius patefiant, quosdam religiosissimos sacerdotes pacem amplectentes et desiderantes ad sacrissimum nostrum peruenire disponat comitatum. ob hanc etenim causam Gratum u. s. sacri nostri consistorii comitem et magistrum scrinii memoriae direximus, cuius praeclaram opinionem multis antea notam habemus temporibus.” CA, Letter 143.3 90 “ut modis omnibus dignetur Constantinopolim ad reliqua concordiae componenda uenire.” CA, Letter 147.3. Agapetus's uninvited arrival, which we will discuss in Chapter 3, is an exception here that proves the rule. Justinian wanted the pope's presence to accomplish his own ends, but he wanted the pope on his own terms. In this way, Vigilius's presence and Justinian's willingness to lean on him proves the best model.

53 Constantinople can act, for the pope, as a guarantor of those interests.91 A guarantee of transparency is a means of encouraging others to cooperate, as it both decreased uncertainty and aids the development of what organizational sociologists have termed goodwill trust.92 Justin sought to achieve his own goals, but he does so partly by assuring

Hormisdas that his goals too will be fulfilled.

The prominence of Gratus in the passage is another element worthy of note.

Gratus made a brief appearance in Letter 142, apparently having borne Letter 141 to

Rome along with Alexander.93 The letters indicate that Gratus was a capable man and had personal qualities which made him effective as an envoy.94 He is mentioned repeatedly in the letters negotiating the end of the Acacian schism and seems to have played an important role in the same, though it is largely invisible to us. We may surmise from

Justinian’s words to Hormisdas in Letter 147 that he was given latitude in negotiating the

91 The significance of this is somewhat obscured by Coleman-Norton’s rendering: “Moreover, that the rights of peace and of unity and of concord may be made more fully clear to your Sanctity, arrange to send to our most sacred court some most religious bishops who embrace and desire peace.” The meaning of iura here is best understood in light of the earlier part of the letter. Justin claimed at the beginning of the letter that the court and bishops in Constantinople desired peace and unity, and now he offers a means of seeing this promise fulfilled. 92 “Sharing of information facilitates coordination between organizations. But disclosing proprietary or confidential information to the other party, that is, acting as if one trusted the other, exposes one’s vulnerability. In this situation, a two-way flow of information is essential for creating and sustaining trust, which feeds on a loose form of reciprocity over time.” Helper and Sako, 390, who discuss the concept of goodwill trust at length. 93 “hanc gratulationis paginam per Alexandrum u. s. non omisimus destinare, sperantes cum dei nostri adiutorio per Gratum u. s. filium nostrum de singulis, quae ad unitatem ecclesiae pertinent, nos clementiae uestrae praebituros esse responsum.” CA, Letter 142.5 94 For an overview of references to Gratus, see PLRE 2.519. The only place he appears outside the Collectio Avellana is in the 54.5.

54 end of the schism.95 He is specifically praised by Hormisdas, who thanks God for him

“whose faith and honest belief has stirred our feelings on account of himself.96” He is even mentioned later by Justin after the schism has ended, as a reminder to Hormisdas of the efforts undertaken by the court toward unity.97 Justin clearly believed a reminder of the person of Gratus will help to sway Hormisdas. Even with modern communications, leaders must place considerable trust in their representatives. In the pre-modern world, their importance grows considerably.

Gratus carried two additional letters on his mission to Rome, numbers 146 and

147. Letter 146, from the patriarch John to Hormisdas, is shot through with the rhetoric of brotherhood, which serves John well on several levels. To greet the pope (saluto) and proclaim greetings (salutans) are given because the true faith is safe and sound (salua est) and brotherly love is strengthened, is to act in conformity with a pro-reunion policy.98 Yet

95 “ut autem nihil praetermittatur, propter causam saepius memoratam ad inuistissimum regem religionis quoque negotium filio uestro uiro sublmi Grato est iniunctum fauente domino nostro Iesu Christo.” CA, Letter 147.5. It seems he was given missions in in addition to that to the papal court. 96 “pro perso quoque filii nostri Grati u. s. deo nostro gratias sine cessatione persoluimus, cuius fides et recta credulitas nostrum circa se excitauit affectum”. Not content with praise of Gratus’ orthodoxy and character, he continues praising his efforts: “dignus re uera, qui tantae curam susciperet actionis et maximi principis ad nos mandata perferret.” CA, Letter 145.8. 97 CA, Letter 232.1. 98 “Saluto uestram sanctitatem, karissime in Christo frater, et salutans praedico, quoniam recta fides salua est et caritas fraternitatis firmata est.” CA, Letter 146.1. One wonders whether the repeated affirmation of brotherhood by John do not have the dual purpose of implying that on some level the bishops of new and old Rome are peers. He speaks of brotherhood thrice, at one point calling the pope his and comminister (fratri et comministro). It would be easy to make too much of this highly conventional manner of writing, but we do know Hormisdas sought the disavowal of Acacius, any mention of whom is conspicuously absent from this letter. John would doubtless have sought to preserve whatever dignity his seat held even as his predecessor became the target of condemnation.

55 Hormisdas would not be content with rhetoric alone, and John makes it clear that he writes “to give satisfaction.” For this reason, he clearly declares his acceptance of the councils of Nicaea, Constantinople, Ephesus, and Chalcedon, and with some emphasis that both Pope Leo and Hormisdas would be entered into the diptychs.99 In accordance with the request of Justin, John too asks that representatives from Rome be sent that they might come to some final agreement.100

Letter 147 is the first of many by Justinian we will examine. In his elaborate prose, which with what is written in his uncle's name, Justinian raised issues neglected by both Justin and John. It is little surprise that Justin should begin to leave the details of the reunion of the churches to his nephew. Justin’s education was generally lacking and he is reputed to have displayed little interest in theological subtleties.101 Justinian, on the other hand, had a solid theological education, an interest in the subject which would persist throughout his life, and the ability, so valued in late antiquity, to bury the simplest statement in the most florid and courtly language. He did not merely say that he was assigned to write the pope, but he connected his assignment with the will of , the same will which had placed his uncle upon the throne.102 When he arrived to the matter of

99 “Tantum ad satisfaciendum scripsimus, ut et uenerabile nomen sanctae recordationis Leonis quondam facti urbis Romae archiepiscopi in sacris diptychis tempore consecrationis propter concordiam affigeretur et uestrum benedictum nomen similiter in diptychis praedicetur.” CA, Letter 146.4. The councils are affirmed at 146.2. 100 [...] rogamus uos pacificos uiros destinare et uestrae dignos apostolicae sedis, qui debeant satisfacere et satisfactionem nostram suscipere, ut et in hac parte Christus deus noster glorificetur, qui per uos pacen hanc mundo seruauit.” CA, Letter 146.5. 101 Vasiliev, 4. 102 “Desiderabile tempus, quod summis uotis optauimus, diuina clementia dolores generis humani respiciens largiri dignata est, quo omnes catholici et deo perfecte fideles maiestati eius se ualeant commendare. idcirco has ad

56 Acacius, however, he turned instead to diplomatic circumspection. “And, indeed, a great part of the faith has been settled by the authority of God; merely concerning the name of

Acacius is it fitting that the consensus of your beatitude begin.103” To this end, Justinian explained, Gratus, a friend who shared his heart,104 was sent bearing letters and “was charged also with the matter of religion”.105

But Justinian went further than Justin in his request for representatives from the see of Rome. Where Justin had only requested a delegation of priests, Justinian requested this only as a contingency in order to avoid delay.106 His clear preference, however, was that “by all means” the pope would “deem it worthy to come to Constantinople, in order to settle the rest of the agreement.107” That John did not request the presence of the pope in his own city is perfectly understandable. The condemnation of John’s predecessor was under negotiation. He had personal interests on the line. To have the bishop of Rome, who under normal circumstances would rival John’s authority in his own city, come to effect the condemnation would only add insult to injury. But it is not clear at first why it

apostolatum uestrum libera licentia iam mihi beneficio caelesti indulta direxi. dominus etenim noster inuictissimus imperator orthodoxam religionem semper amplens ardentissima fide cupiensque sacrosanctas ecclesias ad concordiam reuocare mox adeptus est caelesti iudicio infulas principales, sacerdotibus hic positis denuntiauit, ut pro regulis apostolicis unirentur ecclesiae.” CA, Letter 147.1-2. 103 “et magna quidem pars fidei est composita deo auctore; de nomine tantummodo Acacii uestrae beatudinis conuenit ordiri consensum.” CA, Letter 147.3. 104 “[...] Gratum uirum sublimem, unanimum mihi amicum” CA, Letter 147.3. 105 “[...] religionis quoque negotium filio uestro uiro sublimi Grato est iniunctum” CA, Letter 147.5. 106 “quem si qua tarditas[,] quod fieri non debet, forsitan retinuerit interim uel sacerdotes idoneos destinare festinet [...]” CA, Letter 147.3. 107 “ut modis omnibus dignetur Constantinopolim ad reliqua concordiae componenda uenire.” CA, Letter 147.3.

57 should be Justinian’s desire, and thus Justin’s as well, that Hormisdas should come to

Constantinople. It was not as though the will of Hormisdas in the matter was uncertain, as

Justinian himself notes.108 Yet Justinian tells Hormisdas to “hurry [...] lest that which should be arranged in your presence be done in your absence.109” A likely explanation for this request is that the court wants the pope in Rome that they might sway him from his position on Acacius. This is supported by the circumspection regarding Acacius, even as the court claims reunion is forthcoming. This offers an insight into Justinian’s approach to religious disputes that deserves consideration. As we shall see in future chapters,

Justinian consistently tried to draw disputants to the court. The reason for this, I would argue, is that he saw already that propinquity, the physical closeness which facilitates personal closeness, leads to influence. Much influence could be achieved by means of the careful selection of messengers, as we may discern from the importance placed upon them. But personal presence in one's own court would be more effective still. If Justinian were to have any hope of achieving the unity he desired, in the manner in which he desired it, he would need to bring as much influence to bear upon competing parties as may be. Even at this early stage in Justin’s reign, it seems this element of Justinian’s policy toward controversy is present.

Gratus would later return with two epistles, numbers 144 and 145, dated at the beginning of January, 519. As far as we know, Hormisdas did not respond to Justinian’s epistle, choosing instead to write Justin and John. It is possible that Hormisdas saw little

108 “scimus etenim litteras uestrae beatitudinis et antecessorum uestrorum ad Orientum directas, quid super hac eadem causa contineant.” CA, Letter 147.4. 109 “accelerate ergo, domini sanctissimi, ne uobis absentibus, quae debent presentibus ordinari.” CA, Letter 147.4.

58 reason to respond to the new emperor’s nephew but it is just as likely that he did not wish to dignify with a response Justinian’s insinuation that Acacius’ condemnation was negotiable.110 His response to Justin, in any case, reads like an encomium as the first letter. The “utmost joy from the sunrise of [Justin’s] empire” has been “waxing among us”, declares the introduction.111 But for all its panegyrical qualities, Hormsidas left no doubt about why the emperor was worthy of such praise.

Therefore, oh most merciful emperor, from such a wish [for ecclesiastical unity] you have now a present glory, but from its completion expect an everlasting one. These are the strongest foundations of your empire, which in very beginning of a dawning reign which prefers divine worship with a holy disposition to all other things. Hold fast, therefore, to this care for pious solicitude and for the peace of the catholics; just as you began, press onward because our God, who bestowed this spirit upon you, does indeed choose those whereby he brings it to pass.112

The association of the soundness of the empire with divine approval of imperial religious policy or, to put it in keeping with the age, imperial protection of correct worship was, of course, perfectly in keeping with contemporary political rhetoric..113 But as Francis

Dvornik ably demonstrated, it was also part and parcel of contemporary political theory.

110 I would even go so far as to say the former reason is unlikely. In Letter 210, dated September 2, 519, Hormisdas describes Justinian and his cousin as “illustres et magnificos uiros Iustinianum atque Germanum filios nostros”, CA, Letter 210.2. In the same dispatch of letters he wrote this Germanus (see CA, Letter 211). 111 “Sumptam de imperii uestri ortu laetitiam, quam sui apud nos pollentem merito praecedenti quoque geminsatis alloquio [...]” CA, Letter 144.1. 112 “habes ergo, clementissime imperator, praesentem de tali uoto iam gloriam, sed expecta de perfectione perpetuam. haec sunt ualidissima imperii uestri fundamenta, quae in ipso nascentis regni principio diuinam uniuersis praeferunt sancta dispositione culturam. tenete itaque hanc piae sollicitudinis curam et pro catholicorum pace, sicut coepistis, insistite, quia deus noster, qui uobis hunc tribuit animum, elegit etiam, per quos praestet effectum.” CA, Letter 144.2. 113 Recall “quia ubi deus recte colitur, aduersitas non habebit effectum” in CA, Letter 142.4 above.

59 Ensuring divine favor, by securing the unity of the imperial church, was for political as well as a spiritual benefit in this world. In the calculus to decide who benefited the most at the end of the Acacian schism, the significance of this fact can be lost. Hormisdas knew the importance of connecting imperial security through divine favor with the specific policy requirement that, in addition to the proclamation of the four councils and the commemoration of Leo, Acacius be condemned.114 Reunion could go forward, but it would be on his terms.

To secure the reunion, Hormisdas sent a delegation which would remain in

Constantinople until July, 520.115 The delegation, including the deacon Dioscorus (who was later branded ), was sent with very strict instructions, detailing to whom they would speak, what they were allowed to say in the patriarch's presence, and under what conditions the reunion could occur.116 Some of the elements mentioned in the instructions had already been undertaken by Constantinople, but they did not cease to be conditions for reunion.117 The issue that stood above all others was Acacius, whose condemnation was the sine qua non of reunion.118 The patriarch John would sign a libellus required of

114 It is interesting to note, however, that while Hormisdas clearly implies this is a condition of reunion, he, like Justinian, does not use Acacius’ name: “nam et episcoporum uota precesque uobis effusas gratanter amplectimur, quia tandem loci sui consideratione commoniti ea desiderant, quae dudum sequi uellent sedis apostolicae exhortatio crebra non defuit. et quoniam clementiam uestram id cupere, illos etiam haec dicimus postulare, quae res hactenus ecclesiarum pacem sub intentiosa diuiserit, nec pietatis uestrae nec illorum refugit ueltu latenti causa notitiam. quid igitur facere debeant et litteris nostris et libelli, quem direximus.” CA, Letter 144.3-4. 115 CA, Letter 192.2. 116 CA, Letter 158. 117 It was expected, of course, that Chalcedon be maintained. (CA, Letter 158.7) Indeed, from the perspective of Rome all it asked was only the logical extension of maintaining Chalcedon. 118 CA, Letter 158.6-7.

60 him by the pope, condemning his predecessor and affirming the inviolable faith of the

Apostolic See.119 Thus reconciliation between Rome and Constantinople was at last secured.

So far I have tried to emphasize how both the court and the pope signaled to one another the potential mutual benefit of their relationship. But I would be remiss if I did not address the question of consciousness, of whether those involved in the negotiation thought about it in terms of establishing relationships of reciprocal benefit. In fact, there was a specific vocabulary in which to describe these kinds of connections, a vocabulary is at work throughout the letters sent between Rome and Constantinople. Strong or well- regarded connections tended to take verbal expression in familial and amicable language.

As conventional as such language can be, in some cases they represent a ritual, and therefore real, connection between parties. To give but a few examples, the vir sublimus

Gratus is claimed as Justinian’s unanimus amicus120 on the one hand and Hormisdas’ on other.121 Likewise, Justin is Hormisdas’ filius gloriossimus122 and domnus filius noster clementissimus imperator.123 Though father is the appropriate title for the pope, nevertheless Justinian takes the role of one speaking to a patron when he entreats

Hormisdas: “Establish for us, therefore, a received work, holy and venerable father, following in this your predecessors.124” In this context, one who confers a benefit on another establishes thereby a relationship with concomitant expectations of reciprocity.

119 CA, Letter 159. 120 CA, Letter 147.3. 121 e.g. CA, Letters 142.5, 144.6, and 145.8. 122 CA, Letter 142.3. 123 CA, Letter 189.3. 124 “imponite igitur uobis semel susceptum laborem, sancte ac uenerabilis pater, etiam in hoc decessores uestros sequentes.” CA, Letter 188.

61 These expectations remained present and were expressed alongside a parallel language of sacerdotal fatherhood.

An altogether different tone was taken with John in Letter 145. Although the language of brotherhood is conspicuously absent, Hormisdas did praise the love John confessed and those things which he did right.

[A] better triumph is acquired from this peace than from any battle you please. The glory of that work knows no decline because where God is rightly worshipped the iniquity of the enemies never ascends. We receive joyfully the confession of your love, whereby the holy are confirmed, among which you have repeatedly proclaimed the council of those gathered in Chalcedon. And to the number of the catholic [councils] you have declared that the deeply missed name of Holy Pope Leo was added, written in the diptychs. These things ought to be extolled: that you have accepted the Council of Chalcedon and have followed the epistles of Holy Leo.125

From Hormisdas’ point of view, the approval of Leo’s Tome held a special place among those John managed to accomplish. Even so, John’s achievement was taken to be partial at best, hypocritical at worst. John’s omission of Acacius’ name was no oversight; it was a final attempt to preserve that name by focusing on the councils. Hormisdas recognized the discrepancy.126 “Who, while condemning Dioscorus and Eutyches, could show

Acacius to be innocent? Who, while avoiding Timothy and Peter of Alexandria and the other Peter, of Antioch, and those who follow them, does not, as we have said, detest

Acacius who has supported their communion?127” It seems the Acacian schism itself had

125 CA, Letter 145.2-3. 126 “si perfectionis subsequatur affectus, quia recipere Calcedonense concilium et sequi sancti Leonis epistolas et adhuc nomen Acacii defendere, hoc est inter se discrepantia uindicare.” CA, Letter 145.4. 127 “quis Dioscorum et Eutychen condemnans innocentem ostendere possit Acacium? quis Timotheum et Petrum Alexandrium et alium Petrum Antiochenum et sequaces eorum declinans, sicut diximus, non abominetur Acacium, qui eorum communionem secutus est?” CA, Letter 145.4.

62 widened the rift between East and West to the point where there was little difference in

Hormisdas’ eyes between an Acacius, a Peter Fuller, and a Eutyches.128 The only solution was to “follow without fear the judgment of the apostolic seat”129 and “embrace the faith of the blessed apostle Peter”.130 In practical terms, this meant signing a libellus, the contents of which would be dictated to John.131

As much as John might speak of brotherhood, as much as Hormisdas might praise the new emperor, as a condition of reunion the pope would accept nothing less that complete capitulation from the patriarch of Constantinople.132 And, in spite of the harsh

128 “Theologically also the papacy had moved further from eastern Christology than was apparent at Chalcedon. Duchesne has pointed out that while Leo had quoted the First and Second Letters of Cyril to Nestorius, Gelasius in his treatise ‘On the Two Natures, against Eutyches and Nestorius’ had not mentioned Cyril at all among sixty citations from the Fathers. Nor did Hormisdas. [...] Rome appeared indifferent to this outlook and obsessed, as in the time of Leo, with matters of discipline. Great emphasis was laid by Hormisdas on the Petrine claims of the Roman see and need for obedience to it. There had been no change in the basic position of the parties since Chalcedon.” Frend, 235-6. For this reason, purely theological disputes are not at the fore of the dispute in the Acacian schism. It is important, therefore, to look to reasons why, beyond theology, the schism could be healed. 129 “post ahec quid restat, nisi ut sedis apostolicae, cuius fidem te dicis amplecti, sequaris etiam sine trepidatione iudicia?” CA, Letter 145.6. 130 CA, Letter 145.7. 131 CA, Letter 145.7. 132 Thus J. A. McGuckin, “The ‘Theopaschite Confession’ (Text and Historical Context): a Study in the Cyrilline Re-interpretation of Chalcedon,” Journal of Ecclesiastical History 35.2 (1984), 240: “Pope Hormisdas demanded outright recognition of the Chalcedonian decree (which the Romans had always interpreted in the Leonine Dyophysite sense of the Tome) and practical submission to the judicial authority of Peter’s see.” Additionally, McGuckin seems to view the papal demands as rather extreme and unreasonable: “When Justin succeeded [Anastasius] (518-27), however, he imposed Chalcedon as the test of orthodoxy on the East, and to achieve this end he required the prestigious support of Rome. This was why he was prepared to agree to the papal conditions for establishing communion which Anastasius had wholly rejected in 516. This was to be regard in the following generation as a sell-out to the absolutist claims of the papacy, and the papal gains, so extraordinary at

63 reproof to John, Hormisdas expected that the capitulation would be forthcoming. A certain expectation of reciprocity had already taken hold, evidenced by Hormisdas’ own words in Letter 144, based on the positive steps toward Rome’s position that

Constantinople had already taken.133 The respect paid to the pope, in the person and actions of Gratus, and to the emperor, in the words of Hormisdas, together showed the first signs of developing goodwill and trust. Hormisdas would indeed send representatives with the expectation that the schism would soon be at an end.134

We are fortunate enough to know these legates by name. Among the group sent to

Rome were the bishops, Germanus and John; two , Felix and Dioscorus; and a priest, Blandus.135 The libellus John would sign and send to Rome, dated March 28, 519, mentions each,136 though they would not themselves make the return trip until July,

520.137 These representatives would not come empty handed. The conditions under which reunion could occur were thoroughly prescribed, down to whom they were to speak with and what they were to say in the presence of the patriarch. These instructions are

this time, were to be vigorously resisted by Justinian (527-65).” McGuckin, 242. Be that as it may, the situation is complicated by Justinian’s early involvement in arranging the end to the schism. Whether he would actively resist papal gains later in his career, and whether he would have seen the papal claims as extraordinary, at this early stage he certainly accepted them as the price of papal cooperation. 133 “[...] reciproca deuotione testati iam tunc secutura praeuidimus, quae nunc de ecclesiasticae unitatis affectu caelestis gratiae inspiratione signastis.” CA, Letter 144.1. 134 “haec si deo nostro et clementia uestrae adiuuante suscipiunt et sequuntur, poterit ad eam, quam maximo desideramus ardore, perueniri concordiam.” CA, Letter 144.5. 135 Unfortunately, little more is known of them outside these references and the reports they sent to Hormisdas. So little is said of them that they do not merit entries in the PLRE. 136 CA, Letter 159.5. 137 CA, Letter 192.2.

64 preserved for us in the Collectio Avellana.138 Some of the elements mentioned in the instructions had already been undertaken by Constantinople, but they did not cease to be conditions for reunion.139 The issue that stands out above all others was Acacius. His condemnation was the sine qua non of reunion.140

The deacon Dioscorus sent a report back to Hormisdas, recounting the events of their trip, the reception at Constantinople, and the ultimate success of their mission.141

The success of the mission acts as an excellent illustration of the importance of both the formal and the informal roles of the legates in accomplishing their task. The patriarch

John was understandably hesitant to sign a libellus which would condemn his predecessor, however willing he might be to support Chalcedon. Indeed, it seems he refused to sign it unless there be some discussion of the matter, despite it being clear that the emperor wanted him to do so. Yet the careful instructions the pope included forbade any disputation; the delegation was to insist on John's capitulation and was not to treat it as a matter to be negotiated. Yet the deacon Dioscorus was not formally a member of the delegation as the bishops and priest were, but was attached as an interpreter. Thus he was able to play an informal role as a negotiator, convincing those present to sign off on the libellus, leaving John to capitulate begrudgingly after he had an opportunity to voice his reservations.142 Thus the Acacian schism came to its end by virtue of Dioscorus's informal

138 CA, Letter 158. 139 It was expected, of course, that Chalcedon be maintained. (CA, Letter 158.7) Indeed, from the perspective of Rome all it asked was only the logical extension of maintaining Chalcedon. 140 CA, Letter 158.6-7. 141 CA, Letter 167. The letter was borne “per Pullonium subdiaconum”, thus dating it, following Guenther, along with Letter 160 (April 22, 519). 142 Vasiliev, 176.

65 role. We will later find this same role can cause as many problems as it can solve.

Reciprocal Demands in the Aftermath

We may turn now to how the expectation of reciprocity plays out in the period following reconciliation. The court and the papacy would both employ the memory of the reconciliation and language of duty in order to influence one another, and they do so very explicitly. For the court's part, it is difficult to imagine that no one could foresee resistance in the East to Constantinople's new policy. Rejection of the Henotikon and reunion with Rome was a clear signal that Constantinople was declaring unequivocally for Chalcedon. Even so, nothing less would mend the Acacian schism. Therefore, the court secured reconciliation with the assumption in mind that they would be able to exploit the goodwill gained thereby to lessen the severity of Rome's requirements, a fact which shows through in later correspondences. The condemnation of Acacius was certainly not negotiable. But Rome had also required the condemnation of patriarchs

Fravitas, Euphemius Macedonius II, and Timothy I—the successors of Acacius up to

John—as well as the emperors Zeno and Anastasius. Full compliance with these requirements would be difficult, but reducing them might signal moderation in the new pro-Chalcedonian policy to the East, where peace yet eluded the church. Repeatedly, especially in letters 192, 193, 200, 232, and 235, according to their enumeration in the

Collectio Avellana, Justin or Justinian write the pope to request leniency in the precise application of Hormisdas' requirements while at the same time reminding the pope both of what they had achieved by working together thus far and the obligations implied by his sacerdotal fatherhood. As often as not, they wrote to request that certain staunchly anti-

66 Chalcedonian regions be able to retain the place of certain of their anti-Chalcedonian bishops on the diptychs. Space will only allow a single example, but letter 235, dated

(after reconciliation) September 9th, 520, is representative. Justinian writes:

Moreover concerning the deceased bishops' names make arrangements mildy and as becomes a pacific father, because your predecessor of blessed remembrance wrote to Anastasius of imperial memory that, if only the name of Acacius would be removed, we should have one communion. Therefore it is not a serious matter which your see has urged us to perform. For you ought to write a perfect and pacific letter to the most unconquered prince, your son, for the Church's sake, that you may be before the tribunal of the future Judge an associate of those whose see you occupy by sacerdotal law.143

Justinian will later repeat similar language in the letters exchanged with Hormisdas concerning theopaschism. Again and again we find that Justin and Justinian acting with the belief that their relationship with the pope will permit them a greater degree of influence over his views and decisions than they would have had prior to reconciliation.

The relationship itself became a means of projecting influence.

Likewise Hormisdas attempts to seize upon the goodwill he has cultivated with the imperial court. Hormisdas' desire from the beginning was, of course, to secure reconciliation in terms that would unequivocally reject the Henotikon and those involved in its creation and recognize the steadfast commitment of Rome to orthodoxy. But the relationship between the court and the papacy had more to offer than recognition of the

Roman bishop and the condemnation of those who had opposed him. It also allowed

Rome to exert influence in the East, beyond its traditional jurisdiction. In immediate terms, the Roman legates were able to influence the appointment of reliable

Chalcedonians, including as the bishop of Antioch, by virtue of their presence in

143 CN, 988.

67 Constantinople. Hormisdas would use his new found rapport with the emperor to try and guide imperial policy, vis-a-vis the anti-Chalcedonians of the East. We especially see this manifest in a letter of Hormisdas which recognized many things they had accomplished, but reminded Justin that it remained for him to correct further (effectively to persecute) the remaining anti-Chalcedonians.144 That the pope should regard it as the duty of an emperor whom he approves to correct heretics is an expression of the kind of relationship he expected.

Conclusion

The negotiation to end the Acacian schism, like all successful negotiations, involved strengthening the relationship between and among the participants. Such ties are best formed through personal contact, wherever possible. Within the social and cultural context of the sixth century, such relationships are often constructed in terms of patronage and familial ties. Yet the expression of these ties is not merely a polite ritual. It carries with it concomitant expectations of reciprocity, of duties owed on account of benefits conferred. The letters which follow, from both the imperial and papal courts, are shaped by these expectations.

The court's agreement to Hormisdas's terms has been portrayed as a disastrous setback for imperial religious policy and the position of the emperor relative to the church. This offers scholars a contrast to the bulk of Justinian's reign, marked by a more aggressive control over the church. But the issue is more complex than this. The court did

144 “quia superest adhuc uobis Alexandrinae atque Antiochenae aliarum ecclesiarum nullo modo neglegenda correctio, in quam si se cura clementiae uestrae demiserit, spes est, quo auctore bona cuncta credimus incipi, eodem celeriter auxiliatore compleri.” CA, Letter 168.10

68 not find agreement with Rome because they were cowed into it and the reconciliation was not a capitulation. Such an adversarial picture oversimplifies matters. Constantinople agreed to the pope's terms because the reunion and the relationship premised thereon was desirable. It offered the court a means of projecting influence in the West which had been lacking and it would at times confer on Justinian's policies the legitimacy of the pope's name.

The end of the Acacian schism was a step toward the peace of the church. But it developed within a social and cultural context of relationships and reciprocal obligations.

This is the context in which church and state relations of the period should be understood.

It is easy to read into the tensions between Rome and Constantinople a conflict between discrete institutional actors vying to establish a straightforward hierarchical dominance over one another, of church dominating state just state might be thought to church once Justinian comes into his own. This kind of reading leaves us with a sense of a winner and a loser which in turn offers a ready explanation of policy formulation. But seeing the schism's end as a victory for Rome and a reluctant acquiescence on the part of

Constantinople obscures the complexity of the situation. Both had much to gain by agreement and expected more still in return.

A final point must be made about the connections established through envoys.

Though we have discussed their importance at length, I have left until now the important question of consciousness. I would assert now, therefore, that not only were these connections important, but they were consciously recognized by actors at the time. The most direct evidence of this fact comes from a somewhat later letter addressed from the

69 emperor. Justin’s chief purpose in writing is to Hormsidas of the uncomfortable news that certain cities in the East did not approve of all the requirements for reunion with the West. Justin prefaces this problematic news with a reminder of the connection recently shared between Rome and Constantinople.

With what zeal we ever have been and are for conciliating the sentiments of person practising the Catholic faith, that with the same mind we all should worship the undivided light of the Trinity, we are understood to have made known that at length may be found a remedy for the discord of persons contending over different viewpoints, at one time by sending voluntarily to your Beatitude as envoy Gratus, the noble master of the secretarial bureau, for this very purpose, at another time by receiving with favourable and willing mood the most religious men, whom the apostolic see has believed ought to be sent as mediators of unity. For surely, so to speak, we have looked at peace itself and at them with pleasant eyes and with outstretched hands we have thought them worthy to be embraced [...]145

Notice here that not only is the importance of the connection through the envoys recognized, even as a symbol of the renewed bond between Rome and Constantinople, but the establishment of such a connection is portrayed as the very remedy for discord.

Other examples of this recognition can be readily cited.146

145 CA, Letter 232.1-2; trans. CN, 984, 146 E.g. “[...] qui et ab ineunte nostro imperio sanctitudinem uestram admonendam duximus, quo certos difigeret, ut interuentu eorum remedium aliquod his rebus inueniri possit, et, antequam aduenerint qui destinati sunt, cuncta praeparauimus, quo facilius transigerentur, quae per hanc florentissimam urbem disponenda fuerant.” CA, Letter 181.1. “Summa quidem habenda uobis est gratia, quod alacrem operam non dubitis impendere ad colligendas adunandasque uenerabiles ecclesias, uerum in ea praelucet maxime perfecta sollertia, quod homines adoptatis, qui uoto beniuolo tuae sanctitudinis sincero ac integro possint animo deseruire. Germanus siquidem reuerentissimus episcopus nec non Felix et Dioscorus et Blandus uiri religiousissimi tanta semet praebuerunt adtentos industria ac in tanta sapientia uersati sunt, ut, quantum ad officium eorum pertinet, transactis in plenum et elaboratis omnibus nihil altercationis superesset ulterius.” CA, Letter 192.1-2. NB: The letter is addressed thus: “Iustinus Hormisdas Papae. Nostros per legatos id est Germanum Iohannem episcopos Felicem Dioscorum diaconos et Blandum presbyterum.” It is unclear whether the copyist of letter

70 I might go further to say even that late antiquity had a specific vocabulary in which to describe certain kinds of connections, a vocabulary which has been at work in the above letters. Strong or well-regarded connections tend to take verbal expression in familial and amicable language. As conventional as such language can be, in some cases they represent a ritual, and therefore real, connection between parties. Thus, Gratus is

Justinian’s unanimus amicus147 and Hormisdas’ son.148 Likewise, Justin is Hormisdas’ filius gloriossimus149 and domnus filius noster clementissimus imperator.150 Father is certainly an appropriate title for the pope, but here it is used to help establish a continuing relationship as Justinian acts the part of a suppliant to Hormisdas: “Establish for us, therefore, a received work, holy and venerable father, following in this your predecessors.151” For as in classical Rome, in late antiquity one who confers a benefit on another establishes thereby a relationship with concomitant expectations of reciprocity.

As we shall see, these expectations are still present and expressed alongside a parallel language of sacerdotal fatherhood.

understood nostri legati from the perspective of the papacy, or whether the sender of the letter now thought of these men as nostri legati. 147 CA, Letter 147.3. 148 e.g. CA, Letters 142.5, 144.6, 145.8. 149 CA, Letter 142.3. 150 CA, Letter 189.3. 151 “imponite igitur uobis semel susceptum laborem, sancte ac uenerabilis pater, etiam in hoc decessores uestros sequentes.” CA, Letter 188.

71 Chapter 2: Dioscorus and Justinian’s Indecision

The Theopaschite Controversy as Paradigm of Justinianic Policy Making

This chapter will address a pair of strange events occurring in 519. This year saw the growth of a theological controversy around a group of monks from , modern day Dobruja. These Scythian monks had proposed as a solution to the theological ills of the day a common confession that “one of the holy Trinity suffered” (unus de trinitate passus est). The confession produced a strong reaction. First, the monks faced hostility when presenting their ideas in Constantinople. Seeking some confirmation, they then departed for Rome. There, they were initially welcomed along with their ideas. But this would not remain the case.

With the departure of the monks from Constantinople, dispatches were sent to warn Rome that little good would come from giving them a hearing. Among these dispatches was a letter from the already theologically active Justinian, then the emperor's nephew and likely already the heir-apparent. Justinian had a decidedly negative view of the meddlesome monks, their confession, and their character and so urged pope

Hormisdas to expel them quickly.

And now we come to the strange part. In contrast to Rome's earlier reception of the monks, Hormisdas soon changed his mind and came to reject them, causing them to leave Rome and seek allies elsewhere. Yet Justinian, within days of sending the initial and hostile letter to Rome, wrote again arguing in the monks' favor and even indicating that the peace of the church itself depended upon their ideas. Neither Hormisdas nor

Justinian offers any explanation for their swift reversals. It is under these circumstances

72 that the notion of position, that is the place a given person occupies within a network, will prove particularly helpful. As we shall see, the position of certain actors within the network connecting Rome and Constantinople offered an unusual degree of informal influence over people who might otherwise appear more powerful and influential.

Before we begin discussion of the subject, we should consider the importance of the subject for it may not be immediately evident. After all, although Hormisdas and

Justinian changed opinions concerning the Scythian monks' and their formula, this need not be more than a curiosity, worthy perhaps of a footnote and little else. Yet the event takes on an importance all its own in the historiography of Justinian's reign and his relationship to the church and theology. Whatever one's view of Justinian's reign as a whole, his approach is often seen as erratic and even capricious. Few events in his reign are more frequently used as evidence for this fact that his sudden reversal on the matter of the Scythian monks. Patrick Gray, for example, chose to highlight this event as a paradigm for Justinian's attitude toward ecclesiastical policy in the Cambridge

Companion to the Age of Justinian.

This about-face is extremely instructive: for one thing, it reveals that Justinian's fundamental agenda was – an emperor could have no other – to restore the peace of the church. It also reveals that Justinian was not concerned about the theological issues per se, since he seems to have been willing to move from one position to its opposite in mere days, and with no sign of a theological justification, simply because he suddenly realized the potential of the monks' initiative. The incident thus shows Justinian to be a pragmatic power broker looking for a deal that would do the job.152

152 Patrick Gray, “The Legacy of Chalcedon: Christological Problems and Their Significance,” in Michael Maas, ed. The Cambridge Companion to the Age of Justinian (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005): 228. This is also roughly equivalent to Gray's earlier statement on the matter in Gray, Defense of Chalcedon, 49-50.

73 Likewise, in a more recent and comprehensive treatment of Justinian's ecclesiastical policy, Volker L. Menze sees something fundamental to Justinian's modus operandi in this reversal. After denying that one can really analyze the personal faith of another, at least so long as the other neglected to write a work such as Augustine's

Confessions, Menze proceeds to consider Justinian's image as a theologian on the throne.

This image, as Menze has it, was shrewdly crafted for political purposes. As evidence for an ability and willingness to use theological artifice to political ends, Menze cites

Justinian's reversal on the Scythian monks.

It cannot be excluded that Justinian had become a connoisseur of Christian discourses over the years and tried to force personal persuasions onto his subjects. However, it is more conclusive to regard his treatises first of all as works of a statesman who wished to reach a universally accepted dogma for the Christian Oecumene over which he ruled. Within a couple of weeks during the summer of 519, Justinian switched his dogmatic position from opposing the theopaschite formula to strongly encouraging Pope Hormisdas to accept it. Obviously this could mean a speedy personal theological development, but it rather demonstrates Justinian's political far-sightedness that the theopaschite position could be useful. Similarly, political shrewdness should be assumed as the reason why Justinian presented himself as a theologian on the throne.153

In a still more recent work, Richard Price echoes Gray's interpretation directly as he acknowledges that the “suddenness of the change may suggest that [Justinian] was a pragmatic broker, indifferent to theological niceties but keen to propitiate miaphysite opinion”.154 Price does offer some modification of this view, however, suggesting that

Justinian would have been motivated chiefly by competition with Vitalian at this stage rather than by interest in conciliating the anti-Chalcedonians.155

153 Menze, 252. 154 Price, Acts of the Council of Constantinople, 9. 155 Price also cautions against regarding Justinian as a mere politician on religious matters, pointing to the “consistency with which he subsequently defended Cyrillian Chalcedonianism”. Price, Acts of the Council of

74 While these are examples of broader conclusions scholars have drawn from

Justinian's sudden change in opinion, some attempts have also been made to explain the change itself. A. A. Vasiliev, for instance, attributes the change to the influence of the prominent Chalcedonian and master of soldiers, Vitalian.156 Regrettably, however, he only offers this attribution as a suggestion and does not propose a detailed argument in its defense. A similar suggestion is made by who focuses rather on

Justinian's first opinion, attributing it to the passing influence of papal legates in

Constantinople.157 These suggestions do not need to be considered mutually exclusive, as we shall see. For now it is most important to emphasize that the matter has been given little attention beyond the suggestions. This leaves us in a position where great significance is placed on a single change in Justinian's opinion, but little detailed explanation is given for the change itself. Indeed, broad conclusions about Justinian's outlook are drawn from this largely unexplained change, conclusions which beg the question when applied to the theopaschite controversy. From a documentary perspective, the theopaschite controversy is the beginning of Justinian's long involvement in theological politics. The reasons for his opinions and his changes in opinion merit

Constantinople, 9-10. 156 Vasiliev, 193. 157 “Where did Justinian stand? When Pope Hormisdas demanded from his legates a report of success, Vitalian and Justinian seized the opportunity to report to Rome about the monks, concerning whom the papal legates themselves made some very critical remarks. No doubt influenced by the negative attitude of the papal legates, in the heat of the moment Justinian wrote a letter, in which the names of the monks are mentioned and clearly warned against.” Aloys Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition: Volume 2: From the Council of Chalcedon (451) to Gregory the Great (590-603): Part Two: The Church in Constantinople in the Sixth Century, trans. by Pauline Allen and John Cawte (Louisville, Kentucky: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995), 322.

75 examination and explanation on their own merits, avoiding wherever possible arguments which depend on later eras and circumstances. The remainder of this chapter will seek a detailed explanation and, in so doing, will consider a new way of looking at the problem as a whole. We must turn now to the background of the theopaschite controversy.

The Theopaschite Formula

As discussed in the first chapter, ecclesiastical relations between Rome and

Constantinople had been strained for the past few decades. The first major schism between old and new Rome began in 484 during the reign of the patriarch Acacius. Only under the new Chalcedonian emperor Justin did negotiations to heal this schism begin in earnest. To this end, pope Hormisdas sent a delegation to Constantinople to oversee the reunion which would be effected by 519 with the aid of imperial court. The delegation sent by Rome is already familiar to us, including as it did the two bishops, Germanus and

John; a priest, Blandus; the deacon, Felix and, most prominent in our sources despite his only informal role, the deacon Dioscorus.

The theopaschite controversy of the sixth century following on the heels of the end of the Acacian Schism was short-lived and in many ways uneventful enough that it scarcely merits the term 'controversy'.158 Yet we shall see the insight it offers to the

158 By “theopaschite controversy of the sixth century” I mean, of course, to distinguish it, at least for the moment, from the much larger fifth-century controversy surrounding the trisagion and certainly from the unrelated patripassianist controversy of the third century. “The designation 'Theopaschite' originated as an insult among their enemies (notably the pro- Roman Acometae monks at Constantinople), but it is particularly misleading in so far as it suggests some form of theological connection with the third- century Patripassions, when there is no such relation whatsoever.” McGuckin, 239. The former is related to but distinct from the sixth-century theopaschite controversy.

76 development of religious policy is disproportionate to the controversy itself. The theopaschite controversy was a dispute over a formula proposed by a group of Scythian monks as a possible solution to the divisions over Chalcedon which had greatly disturbed the East. The solution was new, clever, and would in spirit become the cornerstone of

Justinian's conciliatory approach to unity. Up to this point, several approaches to unity had been tried and found wanting. Outright rejection of Chalcedon, even if Justin and

Justinian had considered it an option, would alienate the Chalcedonians. Papering over the issue as the Henotikon had attempted to do had only delivered temporary results when was first attempted and would only fare worse now that the strategy was recognized. Yet a straightforward imposition of Chalcedon by the openly Chalcedonian imperial court would only provoke resistance and eventually revolt in the East. A fresh approach came in the form of the Scythian monk's suggestion that all confess together “Unus ex Trinitate passus est carne.” While the believed Chalcedon was essentially correct, they thought this confession would assuage the concerns of anti-Chalcedonians that the fourth council was Nestorian.159 Hereafter, a strategy of seeking to build common ground between Chalcedonian and anti-Chalcedonians based on a mutually acceptable confession would be a constant element of conciliatory negotiations in the court of Justin and Justinian.

159 Thus Gray, Defense, 51: “In effect, a new type of reconciliation was being proposed. Previous emperors had attempted to reconcile the Chalcedonians to the anti-Chalcedonians and vice-versa by variations on the approach of the Henoticon. Such an approach had always implied an unacceptable by-passing of Chalcedon. Justin and Justinian proposed, instead, to reconcile the anti- Chalcedonians to Chalcedon ; the attempt to reconcile, rather than to correct or neglect, was the new feature of their policy.” Details on the views of the Scythian monks may

77 Despite the conciliatory intention behind it, the theopaschite formula would be treated with disdain—and its formulators with disgust—by the papal legates. It would be treated with caution and confusion by the imperial court. The pope himself would equivocate and reject it. And it would take a decade and the papal condemnation of monks long allied to Rome before the matter would be settled. It is surely a sign of the times that this should be so, that every new attempt to secure unity should instead produce division. For the source of this tendency toward conflict even as all parties ostensibly work toward the same goal, we must look to the structures of communication upon which these discussions depended.

Early Scythian Connections

To receive any sort of hearing in Constantinople, one might expect powerful connections would be necessary. The importance of 'who you know' is a perennial theme in human affairs. In the case of the Scythian monks, this was certainly the case. We have explicit evidence of the connections which increased their prominence and that of their formula. The monks' access to Constantinopolitan policy makers was furnished by their connection to the new magister militum Vitalian, mentioned above. The

Dioscorus reveals in letter 216 of the Collectio Avellana that at least one, though possibly more, of the Scythian monks could claim kinship to Vitalian.160 Dioscorus also makes it clear in another letter that it was the magister militum who ensured that the Scythian monks would have ample time to make their case.161

160 “[...] monachos de Scythia, qui de domo magistri militum Uitaliani sunt […] isti monachi, inter quos est et Leontius, qui se dicit parentem esse magistri militum [...]” CA, Letter 216.5-6. Cf. PLRE 2, 673, “Leontius 26.” 161 He writes thus concerning the arguments over the monks: “isti de sua

78 The Scythian monks' ability to leverage their informal connections to secure a sympathetic hearing in Constantinople tells us something important about how theological discourse develops. Knowledge of ideas and arguments is necessary to understand the development of theological expressions of a period, and the conciliar and imperial dictates that enforced them, but it is not sufficient. An argument might be sound, but it cannot be believed if it is not heard. Neither can it be heard without a theologian whose connections can secure a hearing. To explain the development of theological discourse and the imperial and ecclesiastical policies associated with it, we need both to understand the arguments and the structures along which the arguments were disseminated. In this case, the connection of blood and geography between the Scythian monks and Vitalian was of crucial importance in shaping discussion of religious matters at court.

As much as his prominence in Constantinople was important to securing a hearing, other facts about Vitalian's person and history made him a desirable ally of the

Scythian monks.162 Vitalian himself had a keen interest in maintaining Chalcedonian

prouincia episcopos accusant, inter quos est Paternus Tomitanae ciuitatis antistes. Petitiones obtulerunt et coacti piissimi principis et domni Uitaliani magistri militum iussione frequenter ad audientiam causae conuenimus, non quasi uolentes in his negotiss nos occupare […]” CA, Letter 217.6. 162 From what we know, I do not think it too much to call him an ally. As Ruscu, 782, notes: “The loyalty of the Scythian general to the monastic party led him to oppose the bishop of Scythia himself, Paternus of Tomis, as a letter of the papal delegation of 519 shows.” Ruscu refers here to letter 217 which indicates only that a division occurred between Vitalian and Paternus on account of the monks, though it does not give details about how the division occurred. Even the fact of the division itself is only deduced from the emperor's intervention in forcing a peace between Paternus and Vitalian. “et quia nobis diu laborantibus et illis nullam suscipientibus rationem nihil proficiebat, in quo tendebamus, clementissimus imperator in conuentu publico, ubi et nos interesse iussit, Paternum praedictum episcopum et

79 orthodoxy and in being seen as one of its champions. Yet, Ruscu's recent article, “The

Revolt of Vitalianus and the 'Scythian Controversy'”, presents this fact as a puzzle.

It remains unclear, however, how a warrior from the outskirts of the Empire became interested in the theological disputes – even more so since there were no major differences between the Chalcedonian theology and Severian Monophysitism like for instance between and Orthodoxy.163

Unable to explain why a military man in the sixth century would be interested in theological rather than strictly political conflicts, Ruscu ultimately settled on what might be fairly described as a nationalist explanation for Vitalian's interest.164 Such an interpretation is quite unfair to Vitalian, who had every reason to be interested in matters theological. Besides positing a division between theology and politics which is untenable

—especially in the context of late antiquity—this conclusion is built on problematic assumptions. Ruscu never explains why a warrior in general would have no interest in contemporary theological matters, but he does offer some argument about why Vitalian in particular would not.165 He claims that “the pontifical correspondence clearly prove the

magnificum uirum Uitalianum reduxit ad gratiam […]” CA, Letter 217.7. Given the other remarks Dioscorus makes about the Scythians in this letter (to which we will later attend), one could justly speculate that his silence concerning Vitalian's advocacy was to avoid associating such a credible personage with the monks. Even in his admission of a kinship between Vitalian and Leontius, Discorus sounds reluctant if not skeptical (v.s.). 163 Ruscu, 775. 164 This, of course, was discussed in chapter 1: “Accordingly, Vitalian must be regarded as a Romano-Gothic national of mixed race from Dobruja, who defended the interests of his native province. In the religious conflict in which he became involved, Vitalian is thus the political instrument of the Scythian monasticism, who defends first Orthodoxy against a Monophysite Emperor, and later becomes a factor of political pressure, defending Eastern tradition against Rome's exaggerated demands.” Ruscu, 785. 165 I should add that it is not only Vitalian's military career that makes Ruscu doubt his personal interest in and knowledge of theology. He also holds that Vitalian's racial origins make an interest in these matters unlikely. “Upon reaching the outskirts of the capital, Vitalian began negotiations with the

80 religious motivation of Vitalian's uprising.166” This does not indicate an interest in theological disputes, however, because the interest was not Vitalian's own. This claim depends upon the premise that Vitalian changed theological positions for non-theological reasons.167

[T]he religious demands did not originally belong to Vitalian – they were concerned with the regulation of doctrinal aspects which he was in all likelihood little familiar with –, but somebody else inspired them. Moreover, as we have seen, within the Theopaschite controversy, Vitalian, who for several years had been the main champion of Papal policy in the East, went over to the monks side and implicitly to the anti-Roman party. This attitude change clearly indicates that the loyalty of the Danubian general to his compatriots was more important to him than the vindication of a certain doctrinal issue.168

Emperor's envoys. His requests deserve a closer look. First, Vitalian demanded that the subsidies for the foederati be reinstated, thus touching on the revolt's initial reason. The second request, however, is surprising given the fact that it was coming from a general of Barbaric origin, who reached the with an army of and Bulgarians, among whom Christian must have been rare – namely that the Emperor should defend the true faith.” Ruscu,774-75 (emphasis mine). Ruscu footnotes the “Barbaric origin” claim with a brief discussion of the historiography of Vitalian's ancestry, concluding that the most plausible argument is that “Vitalian was a Romano-Gothic half-blood.” This is not the place to discuss whether there is any merit in assuming that those of “Barbaric origin” ought not to be expected to have any interest in the true faith or even in the value of the idea of a 'barbarian' as it appears here. I would, however, note that based upon Ruscu's assumptions, Vitalian's requests should be unsurprising. If a man's barbarian or Roman origins in any way determine his interests, then the fact that Vitalian makes two requests is fitting. The “half-blood” general requests money and the defense of the true faith, as on these premises ought to be expected of one who is both barbarian and Roman. 166 Ruscu, 783. 167 Incidentally, this is an exact parallel for arguments about emperors, including Constantine and Justinian. Such arguments always begin by assuming a radical and anachronistic division between theology and politics and always end by concluding that the emperor favored one to the detriment of the other. These arguments tell us more about ourselves than our subjects, as they reflect the modern doctrine that religion might be separated from other aspects of culture, such as politics. 168 Ruscu, 784.

81 The claim here that Vitalian changed positions on theological matters, and therefore had no theological loyalties, relies on the notion that there was and always remained a theological position that could be described simply as pro-Roman. Based on this notion, Vitalian's change from favoring an end to the Acacian schism, a pro-Roman position, to favoring the Scythian monks and their formula, an anti-Roman position

(though why is unclear), appears to be the act of one who cares little for theology. It is, moreover, from his loyalty to the Scythian monks and his primary concern for his apparent home province that Ruscu produces his nationalist explanation.169

In fact, Vitalian was keenly interested in championing Chalcedon and, so long as we do not assume it a “slight likelihood that a military man […] was well versed in the theological controversies of the age,170” it is not difficult to explain. I rather agree with

Ruscu that one “must not overlook [Vitalian's] links with the circle of the Scythian monks”171 in seeking an explanation for his loyalty to Chalcedon, but this need not imply that the interest was not also his own. There is nothing about the profession of a soldier that necessarily implies a lack of interest in the nature of God, especially in an age when soldiers look to that God for victory in battle.172 But one point of Vitalian's

169 About Vitalian's primary concern for his home province, Ruscu says this: “Vitalian's political outlook was rather narrow: he contented himself with the command of the troops in Thrace at a time when he could have asked for much more, even if only to extort as much as possible from the besieged Emperor. This attitude reveals a military commander whose interests were restricted to his own world, which is a provincial one – Vitalian did not seem to intend to make politics on Imperial level.” Ruscu, 784. Of course, Vitalian's failure to secure lasting victory, his defeats in the field, and his inability to produce a larger revolt or to build a coalition against Anastasius might also help to explain why his concerns remained provincial. 170 Ruscu, 784. 171 Loc. cit. 172 Nor, it should be added, is it enough in this world to worship just any God. A

82 gave him more than a usual motivation to be interested in theological controversy. His uncle was the patriarch Macedonius who, though willing to sign the Henotikon, was a convinced Chalcedonian.173 Macedonius' support of Chalcedon may have been what earned him an order of exile from the emperor Anastasius in 511.174 There is textual evidence that the deposition of Macedonius precipitated or at least provided an excuse for

Vitalian's revolt.175 The memory of Macedonius would be one of the keys to the restored unity between Rome and Constantinople and by 518 had already become a rallying cry of the Chalcedonian populace of Constantinople.176 That the nephew of this Macedonius would not himself have a personal stake in Chalcedon is implausible. If this seems to imply a personal rather than a purely theological interest in theological controversy, I

leader's incorrect beliefs about God can lead to military disaster. See the Arian emperor ' disastrous defeat and fall at Adrianople in Walter Kaegi, Byzantium and the Decline of Rome (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1968), 224-28 and also Rochelle Snee, “Valens' Recall of the Nicene Exiles and Anti-Arian Propaganda,” Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 26 (Winter 1985): 407. 173 See ODB, “Vitalian.”. 174 As Bury has it, “The Monophysites represented him as plotting against the Emperor, while the orthodox asserted that he was deposed because he declined to give up the profession of orthodoxy signed by the Emperor at his coronation.” Bury, 1.438. 175 Thus the chronicler Tunnunensis, whose entry for this year is both short and important enough to quote in full: “Boetio v.c. consule, Vitalianus comes Patricioli filius, fidei catholice subuersionem et sinodi Calcidonensis damnationem remotionemque orthodoxorum episcoporum atque successiones hereticorum cognoscens, uirorum fortium ualidam manum congregat et Anastasii imperio rebellat.” Victoris Tunnunensis Chronicon cum reliquiis ex Consularibus Caesaraugustanis et Iohannis Biclarensis Chronicon, ed. C. Cardelle de Hartmann. CCSL 173A (Turnhout, 2001), a. 510. Cf. Ruscu, 773, fn. 4. 176 Thus the crowds, clamoring for the restoration of Chalcedon upon the death of Anastasius, had shouted, “τὸ λείψανον Μακεδονίου τῆι ἐκκλησίαι· ἐν τούτοις ἀεὶ νικήσεις. Εὐφημίου καὶ Μακεδονίου τὰ ὀνόματι ἄρτι ταγῆι. τελείαν ἑορτὴν τῆι ἐκκλησίαι. τοὺς ψευδομάτυρας Μακεδονίου ἔξω βάλε.” ACO 3.5.27.74.36-75.2.

83 would say that it shows rather that theological controversies were also personal.

Whatever his interests or loyalties, circumstances produced in Vitalian a symbol of Chalcedonian orthodoxy. The Scythian monks were well placed, therefore, with their connection to Vitalian, to receive a sympathetic hearing of their claims. Vitalian's prestige offered some protection against doubts about their own orthodoxy, while at the same time lent credibility to the claim that they too were acting in defense of Chalcedon. But as important as this connection to Vitalian was it was insufficient to ensure that the Scythian monks' views were approved. Above all, as we have seen, Vitalian's prestige was inadequate to overcome the strength of Dioscorus' position. It may, however, have led to another connection which would eventually effect such approval.

The Scythian's Views

Strictly speaking, it cannot be known for certain whether the Scythians accused

Chalcedonians generally or Rome particularly of heresy while in Constantinople. We only have Dioscorus' and the delegation's witness to support such an allegation. If they were guilty of this allegation, they were singularly terrible diplomats, hostile to much of what the imperial and papal courts had accomplished when mending the Acacian schism.

The decision of such tin-eared monks to bring their arguments to Rome would also appear inexplicable. One does not travel to sixth-century Rome with the express purpose of informing the pope that all those who subscribe to Chalcedon are heretics and expect to receive a good hearing. Such an account would strain credibility. But despite his hostility, one cannot dismiss Dioscorus' witness out of hand.

We are not, however, at a loss. For although we cannot have certainty about

84 events in Constantinople, we can build greater confidence about the value of the delegation's witness and the Scythian monks' purpose. We are fortunate to possess the aliquanta capitula for which the monks sought Roman approval. Twelve capitula come down to us by the name “Capitula Maxenti Ioannis edita contra Nestorianos et Pelagianos ad satisfactionem fratrum.177” These are presumed to be the aliquanta capitula of

Dioscorus' complaint and there is little reason to doubt this presumption. Indeed, there is, as we shall see, some direct correspondence between Dioscorus' complaints and some of the capitula. As Fr. Glorie, editor of the Scythian writings for the Corpus Christianorum explains:

Sed 'antequam (die 25.III.519) legati Constantinopolim ingrederentur', Scythae monachi 'Victorem diaconum Constantinopolitanum uehementer accusabant' haereticum, et “cum eo habuerunt intentionem de 'uno de trinitate crucifixo' et de 'Christo composito', et de allis capitulis”. Referri uidetur ad Capitula XII Maxentii, in quorum quarto agitur de 'uno de trinitate crucifixo', in nono uero de 'Christo composito', et in secundo de 'Maria dei genetrice'.178

It is with some confidence, therefore, that we may compare the capitula with the delegation's complaints to get a better sense of the Scythian monks' manner of argument from their own writings.

Perhaps it is worth pointing out some striking features of the anathemas at the outset. The fact that they are numbered twelve combined, as we shall see, with much of their content is an allusion to Cyril of Alexandria's third dogmatic letter to Nestorius. But their purpose is made unmistakable with the first anathema.

177 The most recent edition may be found CCSL 85A, 29-30. They may also be found in ACO 4.2 (Argentorati, 1914), “Iohannis Maxentii Libelli,” 10 and PG 86.1, col. 87a-88b, “Eisdem contra Nestorianos capitula.”. 178 CCSL 85A, xxiv.

85 If anyone does not confess in our Lord Jesus Christ two natures united, that is of divinity and humanity, as if one nature of God the Word incarnate, and one nature of the God the Word incarnate as two united in one subsistence and person, according to which synod of Chalcedon delivers to us, let him be anathema.179

From the beginning the anathemas, including their frequent allusions to Cyril's dogmatic letter, are framed as a defense of Chalcedon.180 It will be my purpose here to illustrate the clear and conscious effort of the Scythians to maintain both Chalcedon and Cyril in a single document. Their efforts were successful enough in this regard that one could begin by comparing the Scythian anathemas with either Cyril’s or with Chalcedon. I prefer the former option here only because the similarity of genre makes it convenient.

Clear allusions to Cyril’s third dogmatic letters abound in the anathemas the

Scythian monks would eventually carry to Rome. The second Scythian anathema shows a concern to emphasize Mary’s role as Mother of God.

If anyone does not confess that holy Mary [is] properly and truly mother of God,

179 “Si quis non confitetur in domino nostro Iesu Christo duas naturas unitas, hoc est diuinitatis et humanitatis, ac si unam naturam dei uerbi incarnatam, et unam naturam dei uerbi incarnatam sicut duas unitas in una subsistentia atque persona, secundum quod nobis ueneranda synodus Chalcidonensis, anathema sit.” CCSL 85A, 29-30. 180 That the Scythians depend upon Chalcedon and the twelve anathemas of Cyril has been recognized by others. As Fr. McGuckin says, “The Theopaschites proposed a reconciliation on the Christological basis of Chalcedon, but this was re-interpreted through the originating prism of Cyril's early theology, particularly as demonstrated in the twelve anathemas.” He notes further: “The twelve anathemas were appended by Cyril to his third letter to Nestorius. […] The theology manifested in the twelfth anathema owes something to Athanasius, Ad Epictetum 59.2: 'who have been so reckless as to say that Christ who suffered in the flesh and was crucified is not Lord, Saviour, God and Son of the Father?' This latter text was held in great at Chalcedon.” McGuckin, 240. Given how clear this connection is, I do not here set out to prove it again. My purpose is chiefly to give a sense of what the Scythian monks were proposing for the sake of comparison with Dioscorus' reports.

86 but because of such honor this name is assigned to her, since she bore a man who is called God according to grace, but not since she bore God incarnate and made man, let him be anathema.181

This reflects Cyril’s well-known insistence on this point, a point which crowns his broader Christological argument, taking first place in his own anathemas.

Whoever does not acknowledge Emmanuel to be truly God and hence the holy ‘Mother of God’ (for she gave fleshly birth to the Word of God made flesh) shall be anathema.182

Another important aspect receiving similar treatment occurs in the third anathema of both lists (doubtless itself an intentional parallel). In his third anathema, Cyril emphasized unity of the one Christ as a person (ὑποστάσις).

Whoever divides the subjects (ὑποστάσεις) in respect to the one Christ after the union, joining them together just in a conjunction involving rank i.e. sovereignty or authority instead of a combination involving actual union (συνόδῳ τῇ καθ᾿ ἕνωσιν φυσικήν) shall be anathema.183

The third anathema offered by the Scythians, by comparison, is built from Latin equivalents of Cyril’s Greek original.

181 “Si quis non confitetur proprie et uere sanctam Mariam dei genetricem, sed propter honorem tantum hoc ei nomen tribuit, quia peperit hominem qui secundum gratiam dicitur deus, non autem quia peperit deum incarnatum et hominem factum, anathema sit.” Likewise, Anathema 5 reads, “Si quis puerum illum quem sancta uirgo Maria genuit, non confitetur natura deum et per ipsum fact omnia uisibilia et inuisibilia, cælestia et terrestria, conditoremque omnium, deum fortem, principem pacis, patrem futuri sæculi, anathema sit.” CCSL 85A, 29-30. 182 “Εἴ τις οὐχ ὁμολογεῖ θεὸν εἶναι κατὰ ἀλήθειαν τὸν Ἐμμανουὴλ καὶ διὰ τοῦτο θεοτόκον τὴν ἁγίαν παρθένον (γεγέννηκε γὰρ σαρκικῶς σάρκα γεγονότα ἐκ θεοῦ λόγον), ἀνάθεμα ἔστω.” ACO I.1.1, 41; translation here from Cyril of Alexandria, Select Letters. ed. and trans. by Lionel R. Wickham (Oxford: Claredon Press, 1983), 29. 183 “Εἴ τις ἐπὶ τοῦ ἑνὸς Χριστοῦ διαιρεῖ τὰς ὑποστάσεις μετὰ τὴν ἕνωσιν, μόνῃ συνάπτων αὐτὰς συναφείᾳ τῇ κατὰ τὴν ἀξίαν ἢ γοῦν αὐθεντίαν ἢ δυναστείαν καὶ οὐχὶ δὴ μᾶλλον συνόδῳ τῇ καθ᾿ ἕνωσιν φυσικήν, ἀνάθεμα ἔστω.”; Ibid.; trans. Ibid.

87 If anyone does not confess a substantial or natural unity (substantialem siue naturalem unitatem) according to which, while remaining God by nature, the Word was united with human nature, but he says the actual or personal unity (substantialiem siue personalem dicit unitatem) [is] either according to illumination or according to love or according to affection, let him be anathema.184

Although instances could be multiplied further, this should give a clear idea of the

Scythian monks’ dependence on Cyril’s anathemas in producing their own. But we still have to look at a key point of comparison, the point most notable for our purposes.

Cyril’s second and twelfth anathemas both speak in terms of the flesh of Christ. Thus we find the following in the second anathema:

Whoever does not acknowledge the Word of to have been substantially united with flesh and to be one Christ along with his own flesh, that is the same at once God and man, shall be anathema.185

Humanity, as it is here understood, is not complete without its bodily aspect. Therefore just as Cyril affirmed Christ’s united divinity and humanity by calling Mary theotokos, so here he affirms that God the Word had has his own flesh. The flesh, however, has many qualities one would not normally attribute to the divinity. Among these, of course, is being born of a human woman, but there are other aspects of humanity that Cyril ascribes to the Word of God. In his twelfth anathema, he does not hesitate even to say that God died and to anathematize those who reject this.

Whoever does not acknowledge God’s Word as having suffered in the flesh, been crucified in the flesh, tasted death in flesh and been made first-born from the dead

184 “Si quis non confitetur substantialem siue naturalem unitatem secundum id quod manens natura deus uerbum naturæ est unitus humanæ, sed substantialiem siue personalem dicit unitatem aut secundum inlustrationem siue secundum dilectionem aut secundum affectionem, anathema sit.” CCSL 85A, 29-30 185 “Εἴ τις οὐχ ὁμολογεῖ σαρκὶ καθ' ὑπόστασιν ἡνῶσθαι τὸν ἐκ θεοῦ πατρὸς λόγου ἕνα τε εἶναι Χριστοῦ μετὰ τῆς ἰδίας σαρκὸς, τὸν αὐτὸν δηλονότι θεόν τε ὁμοῦ καὶ ἄνθρωπον, ἀνάθεμα ἔστω.” ACO I.1.1, 41; trans. Wickham, 29.

88 because as God he is Life and life-giving, shall be anathema.186

A Cyrillan confession, in this case, is a theopaschite confession. Following Cyril in this, the Scythian monks offer their confession in the form of the fourth anathema of their list:

If anyone does not agree to confess that Christ [is] ‘one of the Trinity’ even with his own flesh, who suffered in the flesh for us, though according to the flesh he may not be of the substance of the Trinity but he may be of the same [flesh] from us, let him be anathema.187

The reason for their insistence on theopaschism is further illuminated in the sixth anathema. There they emphasize the unity of subject, of Christ and God, when speaking of his death.

If anyone says Christ suffered in the flesh, but indeed does not agree to say that God suffered in the flesh, because that very one is understood as Christ who suffered in the flesh let him be anathema.188

The unity of subject for both Cyril and the Scythian monks requires that both Christ’s miracles and his suffering be ascribed to one and the same Word. The monks did not innovate on this point; they simply followed Cyril.189 This makes it even more unlikely that they were so tin-eared as Dioscorus would have us believe.

I do not, however, want to leave the impression that the monks did nothing but

186 “Εἴ τις οὐχ ὁμολογεῖ τὸν τοῦ θεοῦ λόγον παθόντα σαρκὶ καὶ ἐσταυρωμένον σακρὶ καὶ θανάτου γευσάμενον τε πρωτότοκον ἐκ τῶν νεκρῶν, καθὸ ζωή τέ ἐστι καὶ ζωοποιὸς ὡς θεός, ἀνάθεμα ἔστω.” Ibid.; trans. ibid. 187 “Si quis non adquiescit confiteri Christum unum de trinitate etiam cum carne propria, qui pro nobis passus est carne, quamuis secundum carnem non sit de substantia trinitatis, sed sit idem ex nobis, anathema sit.” CCSL 85A, 29-30 188 “Si quis dicit Christum passum carne, deum uero passum carne dicere non adquiescit, quod id ipsum intellegitur Christum passum carne, anathema sit.” Ibid. 189 It is perhaps also worth noting that even the Tome of Leo contains theopaschite language. To give one example, Price trans., Council of Chalcedon, II.19: “[...] the impassible God did not disdain being a passible man, nor the immortal one to submit to the laws of death.”

89 repeat Cyril. The Scythian monks' anathemas do differ from Cyril's in emphasis and content. Some of these differences are subtle, while others are quite obvious. However clear they are, the differences are not contradictions. If the ultimate purpose of the anathemas was to conciliate Chalcedonian and anti-Chalcedonian, it would not even do to include a patchwork of Christological theses aimed alternately at satisfying one group before attending to the other. The monks had to show that Chalcedon and Cyril spoke with one voice, as one would expect of the select Fathers.

Even so, some lines in the Scythian anathemas were obviously crafted to appeal to

Western readers. Their first anathema, quoted above, could be taken as the central confession of the whole piece. Not only is it included first, but it speaks in the broadest terms of all the anathemas. At the heart of this confession is an insistence that Chalcedon held a diophysite Christology—an obvious enough point to be sure—but a diophysite

Christology which could also be understood in terms of one nature. Hence they speak of the two natures united, “as if one nature of God the Word incarnate, and one nature of

God the Word incarnate as two united in one subsistence and person […] which the venerable synod of Chalcedon delivers to us”.190

190 Vide supra, 25. It is interesting to note that later Chalcedonian tradition also held it possible to speak of “one nature,” if this was understood after a Chalcedonian fashion. Such a question received an important treatment at the hands of St. the Confessor, especially when he attempted to address the difficulty of Pseudo-Dionysius' formulation, “one theandric energy.” Likewise, St. dealt directly with Cyril's “one incarnate nature of God the Word” formula, at once holding it to be orthodox and Chalcedonian if properly understood. See Saint John of Damascus: Writings, trans. Frederic H. Chase, Jr. (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University Press, 1958), 55. We might note also a fact of even more importance, for our purposes: i.e. the declaration in Canon 8 of the Fifth Ecumenical Council of 553 in Constantinople, holds the formula 'one nature of God the Word incarnate' orthodox when it is understood to mean “that from the divine and

90 The eighth anathema offers another example where the monks want to make their loyalty to Chalcedon abundantly obvious.

If anyone does not confess two nativities in one Son of God: with the Word God, on the one hand, having been begotten of the Father before the ages, the very same one, on the other hand, having been born in the latter days from his mother, let him be anathema.191

No one reading this can have missed the unmistakable allusion to the formula of

Chalcedon: “[…] begotten from the Father before the ages in respect of the Godhead, and the same in the last days for us and for our from the Virgin Mary the Theotokos in respect of the manhood, one and the same Christ”.192 The monks only trouble themselves to put a reference to the 'one Son of God' at the beginning to emphasize further his unity amidst two nativities.

Such are some of the more obvious pro-Chalcedonian claims in the Scythian anathemas. At this point, a curious inclusion bears mention. After proceeding through a list of nine anathemas focused on the kinds of Christological questions that so concerned the East, the final three anathemas take an unexpected detour into questions raised by the debates over . It is clear enough that these would have appealed to a Western audience, especially in the final appeal made in anathema twelve to the apostolic seat.

Likewise we anathematize every thought of Pelagius and Caelestius and of all who think like them, accepting all things which in diverse places have been enacted and written against them, by the prelates of the apostolic seat, i.e. by Innocentius, Boniface, Zosimus, Caelestinus, and Leo, and also by bishops,

human natures a union was made according to subsistence, and that one Christ was formed”. Norman P. Tanner, ed. Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils (Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press, 1990), 1.117–18. 191 “Si quis non confitetur duas natiuitates in uno filio dei, deo uerbo, anta sæcula quidem nato de patre, in nouissimis autem temporibus eodem de matre genito, anathema sit.” CCSL 85A, 29-30 192 Price trans., Council of Chalcedon, II.204.

91 Atticus the Constantinopolitan and Augustine of the African province.193

It may be supposed therefore that, at least to some extent, these were included to increase the appeal of a document overwhelmingly concerned with the controversy over natures to a Western audience.

Yet another more interesting explanation for the inclusion of these final anathemas suggests itself. The in 431 had, of course, accepted Cyril’s third letter to Nestorius, the letter which included his anathemas. Indeed, the council was largely concerned with the Christological questions which consumed the East. It must also be remembered, however, that the council condemned the Pelagian Caelestius. With

Caelestius condemned by an ecumenical council, it was hardly necessary for the Scythian monks to condemn him again. But disputes concerning Pelagianism were again occurring in the West. By including in their anathemas a reference to Caelestius, amidst these several other anathemas derived from a Cyrillan document affirmed at Ephesus, the monks would remind their Western readers of an important fact: the same ecumenical council which had once condemned Caelestius had also affirmed the substance of what they now wrote. This was even more reason for the West to consent to these anathemas which would ultimately be aimed at satisfying an anti-Chalcedonian audience of the orthodoxy of Chalcedon.

In short, the Scythian anathemas were no melange of condemnations, but together they made a carefully and diplomatically constructed document. They loudly affirmed

193 “ΙΒʹ Item anathematizamus omnem sensum Pelagii et Cælestii et omnium qui illis similia sapiunt, suscipientes omnia quæ in diuersis locis contra ipsos acta sunt et scripta a præsulibus apostolicæ sedis, id est Innocentio, Bonifatio, Zosimo, Cælestino et Leone, Attico etiam Constantinopolitano et Augustino Africanæ prouinciæ episcopis.” CCSL 85A, 29-30

92 Chalcedon and a diophysite Christology. They pointed to the authority of the apostolic seat and to pope Leo by name. They argued that even that most miaphysite sounding formula, ‘one incarnate nature of God the Word,’ could and even should be understood in a Chalcedonian fashion. The West could consent to the anathemas, only confirming thereby that Chalcedon had been orthodox all along. An anti-Chalcedonian might consent, confirming thereby the orthodoxy had been Cyrillan. This is the kind of conciliatory approach that the Scythian monks had aimed for.

Recalling the complaints made in Letter 216, we begin to find contrast between

Dioscorus and the Scythian anathemas on several points.194 In contrast to the first complaint, we find the monks attempting to establish their claims in the authority of the councils, especially of Chalcedon, of Cyril, and of the bishops of the apostolic seat.

Likewise, Dioscorus’ fourth and fifth complaints, regarding the adequacy of Chalcedon, contrast with the rhetoric of the anathemas. At no point do the anathemas present

Chalcedon as inadequate in any way. One may well argue that they present a different, new Chalcedonianism which would have been foreign to the council itself. For the sake of argument, we could even accept this as correct. But it would remain that the monks never present their views as different or in any way new. For them to claim that the council was inadequate would be to undermine the key claim their list of anathemas could have to legitimacy in Western eyes: that it was built upon Chalcedon.

We might further recall the charge leveled by the committee of legates in Letter

217 that the monks claimed, “‘All who were communing with the apostolic seat are

Nestorians’ and more from them that they ought not to believe, who only just seem

194 For Dioscorus’ complaints, vide supra 78.

93 recalled to the apostolic seat.”195 The fact is that in their anathemas the Scythian monks included positive references to the see of Rome. Rather than attacking Rome, as

Dioscorus would present it, the textual evidence shows the approach of the monks to be conciliatory and aimed at pleasing and supporting the authority of the West wherever possible.

Letter 217 adds a further complaint which could have scandalized an Eastern reader if it were subject to too strict a reading:

We have written what was seen by us; it is in your power to deliberate what God would command of you, seeing that they labor to assert this desiring in that way to satisfy themselves, that thus we might declare and say that one of the Trinity suffered, which neither the fathers nor the synods said.196

Of course the difficulty here is that, as we saw above, the theopaschite claims of the

Scythian anathemas were based on what one of the fathers, arguably the most important to debates in the East at the time, had written. What Cyril wrote might not hold as much weight with Dioscorus as with an average disputant in the East, but a denial of Cyril’s patristic authority would only confirm to an Eastern reader that a papal representative could be a crypto-Nestorian. It is unlikely that this is what Dioscorus meant, but it does reflect his tendency to inflate his charges against the monks wherever possible.

At this point, it becomes especially interesting to return to Letter 224. The monks had already departed when Dioscorus wrote this letter, but his attempts to keep a handle on circumstances had not left. Dioscorus makes no attempt here to discuss the actual

195 CA, Letter 217.3. 196 “nobis quod uisum est, scripsimus; in uestra potestate est deliberare, quod uobis deus imperauerit, quoniam hoc illi nituntur asserere eo modo sibi satisfacere cupientes, ut ita profiteamur et dicamus unum de trinitate passume esse, quod nec patres nec synodi dixerunt.” CA, Letter 217.10

94 content of the anathemas, doubtless knowing they are already in Hormisdas’ possession.

He prefers other approaches instead.

You indicated to me a testimony given by them, that the heretics would not be joined to me. Whom they call heretics, I do not know, except perhaps those who accept the Chalcedonian synod, whom I call catholics.197

Since we do not have the letter written to Dioscorus, we cannot be certain of the contents of this testimony. But Dioscorus’ snide comment on the matter is revealing. The first part of the letter gives some details worthy of note concerning Vitalian’s intervention on the monks’ behalf (which we will discuss later), but the second half of the letter is worth quoting now at length. It is important to bear in mind when reading it that the monks have already arrived in Rome and presented their written claims to the Pope.

Yet may your beatitude know that the Scythae say all who accept Chalcedon are Nestorians, saying “the synod does not suffice against Nestorius” and so the synod ought to be received in the way they have explained it. What kind of men or what kind of intentions they have and what they want to introduce into the catholic faith, with the aid of God made plain to all Catholics nor does the case require my work, as God revealed it to the light by his own mercy. I, what I have learned from the fathers, what the always preserved, this I did not pass over in silence, I did not conceal it. God is one, about which has spoken saying, “Hear, O Israel, God, your God, is One” and in another place he says, “the Lord alone was leading them.” We believe the Trinity is of one substance, as I have said already, one , three persons, since we neither say many believing that God is one, that is Father and Son and Holy Spirit, nor do we deny the three persons, lest we seem to follow the dogma of Sabellius. Certainly the person of the Son, that is of the Word of God, is consubstantial with the Father: the same [persona] was made flesh, the same dwelled in the womb of Mary, the same took up a human nature without , whence the Son of God made man was born of the Virgin Mary. For which reason we say and believe that she is dei genitrix, because the unity of divinity and humanity, which began to come to pass from which the angel announced to Mary saying, “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Holy Spirit will come upon you” or otherwise, not such that he was divided in the womb but neither in the birth nor in the nourishment nor in the

197 “significastis mihi ab illis contestationem datam, ut non mihi haeretici iungerentur. quos dicunt haereticos, ego ignoro, nisi illos forte, qui suscipiunt, quos ego catholicos dico.” CA, Letter 224.2

95 passion nor in the sepulchre nor in the resurrection nor in heaven is he separated since the Son of God, our Lord Jesus Christ, is one, not divided in persons, not separated in natures nor different in power. The same, on the other hand, supporting the passion, since all either dividing as Nestorius or denying as Eutyches or not quite believing in the incarnation as Apollinarius or introducing a phantasm as Manes are broken off from the catholic faith: workmen of iniquity and enemies of the doctrine of the apostles. These things I have learned, these I have heard from our ancestors and, if perhaps we ought to follow something short of them I do not know, with your beatitude having explained that it is necessary for me to follow. Yet , because under the designation of he says that he has his own congregation, if asked either with what monks he lived or in what monastery or under what abbot he was made a monk, he cannot say. Likewise also if I will have been willing to say the same of Achilles, I will have done a pointless thing; this suffices for him: ever to skulk in concealment, damned on account of his own conscience by all catholics.198

198 “isti tamen Scythae sciat beatitudo uestra quia omnes accipients synodum Calcedonensum Nestorianos dicunt dicentes ‘non sufficit synodus contra Nestorium’ et sic debere synodum suscipere, quomodo ipsi exposuerint. qui homines quales sunt aut quales intentiones habent et quid uolunt in fide catholic introducere, cum dei adiutorio manifestatum est omnibus catholicis nec indiget causa meo labore, quam deus pro sua misericordia produxit ad lucem. ego, quod a patribus didici, quod semper ecclesia catholica seruauit, non tacui, non abscondi. unus est deus, de quo Moyses loqitur dicens: audi, Israel, dominus deus tuus deus unus est, et in alio loco ait: dominus solus ducebat eos. unius substantiae credimus trinitatem, quomodo praedixi, unam deitatem, tres personas negamus, ne Sabellii dogma uideamur sequi. uerum est personam filii, id est uerbi dei, consubstantialem patri: ipsa caro facta est, ispa in utero Mariae habitauit, ipsa naturam humanam suscepit sine peccato, unde filius dei homo factus natus est de uirgine Maria. propter quod eam dei genitricem dicimus et credimus, quia unitas diuinitatis et humanitatis, quae fieri coepta est ex quo Mariae angelus Grabihel annuntiauit dicens: aue Maria gratia pelna, spiritus sanctus superueniet in te uel cetera, non tantum in utero non est diuisa sed nec in partu nec in nutrimentis nec in passione nec in sepulchro nec in resurrectione nec in caelo separata est, quia unus est filius dei dominus noster Iesus Christus, non in personis diuisis, non in naturis separatus neque in potentia diuersus. idem est namque et sustinens passionem, quia omnes haereses aut diuidens quomodo Nestorius aut negans quomodo Eutyches aut minus incarnationem credens quomodo Apollinarius aut fantasiam introducens quomodo Manes a fide catholica sunt incisae: homines operarii iniquitatis et hostes doctrinae apostolorum. ista didici, ista audiui a maioribus nostris et, si forte citra ista quid debeamus sequi ignoro, exponente beatitudine uestra necesse est me sequi. Maxentius tamen quod sub abbatis uocabulo dixit se congregationem habere, si interrogetur aut cum quibus monachis uixit aut in quo monasterio aut sub quo abbate monachus factus est,

96 The latter half of Dioscorus’ letter is, of course, a confession. But it is not a very challenging one for a Chalcedonian. It is not even a very informative one, for there is no reason to believe that Hormisdas, the intended audience of this confession, doubted

Dioscorus’ orthodoxy for even a moment. But the purpose here is not to inform. The purpose is to imply without saying that the Scythian monks would not subscribe to his confession. The purpose is to contrast himself, who has kept the Catholic faith and the instructions of the Pope, with John Maxentius, whose abbacy even is questionable. It is a purely rhetorical move, meant to leave a bad impression of the monks now that their works and words were actually in the presence of the pope.

It certainly remains possible that the Scythian monks could have said in person the things about Chalcedon which Dioscorus ascribed to them. We cannot know. But it remains implausible. Had the monks condemned all those who commune with the apostolic see, it would have made little sense for them to then have immediate recourse to the same when rejected by Dioscorus. It would have made even less sense for them to take communion upon their arrival. But in comparison with the kinds of things the

Scythian monks actually wrote, these letters do tell us much of their own function.

Taken as a whole, the contrast between the Roman delegation's account of the

Scythian monks and the anathemas we have is sharp. Where Dioscorus treats them as the purveyors of heresy, the Scythians offer a careful selection from Chalcedon, Ephesus, and, above all, Cyril. Where the delegation claims the Scythians condemn Chalcedonians as heretical, the Scythians anathematize those who reject Chalcedon as heretics. We

dicere non potest. similiter et si de Achille dicere uoluero, rem facio superuacuam; cui hoc sufficit: semper latere propter conscientiam suam ab omnibus catholicis damnatam.” CA, Letter 224.7-11.

97 cannot know all—indeed any—of what was said between the Scythian monks and the

Roman delegation with strict certainty. The witness of the Scythian monks' own writings, however, casts great doubt on the reports of hostility to Chalcedon made by the delegation.

This does not exonerate the Scythian monks of all accusations the delegation makes. How or indeed whether they attempted to obstruct the election of the new patriarch of Antioch cannot be corroborated. Given that they were already engaged in conflicts with their own bishop, and that they proceeded to fight with the Roman delegation, it seems fair to conclude that they could have put more effort into diplomacy than they did. Yet one detail about the Scythian monks contained in letters 216 and 217 can be confirmed with certainty and I would argue this detail is key to understanding

Dioscorus' portrayal.

Both letters are anxious about the fact that the Scythian monks are already on their way to Rome, and there is an aspect of this that is easy to miss. If the Scythian monks had already departed, it is not at all certain that the delegation's letters would precede the monks to Rome. Thus, it is unlikely that the delegation wrote merely to inform Rome that the monks were coming. Again, if the monks were bearing texts it would have been superfluous for the delegation to write to supply Rome with notes on the texts' contents.

There are three reasons for the delegation to write, however, all of them mutually compatible and all likely.

First, the delegation would have been remiss in its duty as representative of Rome had it not informed of affairs that would soon spill over in the West. This is, of course,

98 rather obvious and was doubtless part of the motivation. But the expectation that the delegation should relate relevant information cannot account for much of what we have seen. This is especially true of the invective, the accusations of heresy, and the attempts to explain the possible consequences of approving the monks' views. Second, the delegation likely believed it their duty also to inform Rome that the monks had been in conflict over the appointment of the Antiochian bishop, a matter which is mentioned but can hardly be said to be the focus of the letters. This still does not explain the elements for which the first reason did not account, but it is suggestive. The letters are not satisfied merely to report the Scythian monk's objections—indeed they say little about the actual objections the monks made—but they do take the opportunity to portray the monks as unnecessarily troublesome.

This points us to a third reason and possibly the chief goal of the letters. They were written not only to relate some information to Rome, as one expects of a representative, but also to shape the way Rome would receive the monks and their writings. Rather than acting merely as a conduit for information, Dioscorus is working carefully to stay in control of the situation. It is position, situated as the crucial link in a network between Rome and Constantinople, that makes this possible. The means by which information travels, being human, is not neutral. It is active in shaping information and that which depends upon it. This point is especially well illustrated by how events played out upon the arrival of the Scythians in Rome.

The Theopaschite Formula Rejected

The theopaschite controversy itself begins with a group of monks who, it seems,

99 had arrived in Constantinople before the delegation of Hormisdas.199 Much of what we know about the beginnings of the controversy, however, must be gleaned from the reports the delegation sent back to Rome contained in the Collectio Avellana.200 In a way, this places us in a situation similar to that of Hormisdas, depending primarily on the witness of the deacon Dioscorus and his colleagues, the main difference being that we have access to later writings of the Scythian monks to compare with Dioscorus' claims.

From his earliest reports on the Scythian monks, Dioscorus is kind enough to the historian make clear his biases. In letter 216 of the Collectio Avellana, after discussing some advances made in achieving the Roman See's goals with regard to Antioch,

Dioscorus mentions the monks for the first time.

And since these things are being advanced, and in them the catholic church daily prevails, the ancient plotter has stirred up the monks of Scythia, who are of the house of the magister militum Vitalian, enemies of the prayers of all Christians, whose disturbance begets not a few obstacles to the unity of the church and a great many to the in the aforementioned Antiochian church.201

That the devil is responsible for the activities of the Scythian monks cannot be doubted if we are to take Dioscorus' word. For when one discusses the council of Chalcedon, these obscurantist monks, enemies of Christian prayers, only showed it to be “doubtful and

199 “Uictor diaconus dicitur: quidam cum isto, antequam nos Constantinopolim ingrederemur […]” CA, Letter 224.2-3. 200 The paucity of primary sources on the subject is bested only by the paucity of secondary sources. The most complete narrative summary of events remains É. Amann, “Scythes (Moines),” Dictionnaire de théologie catholique 14/2 (, 1941): 1746-53. 201 “et quia ista aguntur et in his cotidie proficit ecclesia catholica, insidiator antiquus excitauit monachos de Scythia, qui de domo magistri militum Uitaliani sunt, omnium Christianorum uotis aduersarious, quorum inquietudo non pauas moras generauit unitati ecclesiarum et magnopere de praedictae ecclessiae Antiochenae ordinatione.” CA, Letter 216.5.

100 unsound and opened to the error of all heresies.202” If we take Dioscorus' word, the monks appear openly opposed to Chalcedon. In his first letter on the Scythian monks, both in tone and in content, Dioscorus does not so much attempt to report events at

Constantinople as to shape perceptions in Rome.

The difference in tone can be seen most clearly when it is compared to the report sent at the same time in the name of the bishops, Germanus and John, the priest Blandus, as well as Dioscorus.203 This report is clearly opposed to the Scythian monks, for reasons we will discuss momentarily, but it is also more detailed and does not engage in the kind of invective we find in Dioscorus' letter. The worst description of the monks is

“impediments” to the unity of the churches, a heavy charge but hardly an indication of alliance with the devil.204

Recognizing therefore that the earliest reports on the Scythian monks sent to

Rome were opposed to the monks and their activities, we can turn to the specific charges made against them. After mentioning the Scythian monks' opposition to the Antiochian ordination, though not, it should be said, saying why they objected, Dioscorus levels the first of five charges against them. He warns that these monks “hasten to Rome hoping to have a number of capitula confirmed by your beatitude.”205 For Dioscorus, the most objectionable of these seems to be the explicitly theopaschite chapter, but it is telling his

202 “non, quasi non intellegentes, nisi conantes per subtilitatem ad hoc nos adducere, ut disputetur de synodo Calcedonensi. Quod si factum fuerit, dubia et infirma ostenditur et haereticorum omnium patuit errori.” CA, Letter 216.9. 203 I.e. letter 217, dated June 29, 519, along with letter 216. 204 “harum tamen tribulationem prouisores et socii et unitatis ecclesiarum impedimenta monachi de Scythia fuerunt [...]” CA, Letter 216.5. 205 “isti monachi […] Romam festinant sperantes aliquanta capitula a beatitudine uestra confirmari.” CA, Letter 216.6.

101 objection is not to the theopaschite formula, as such, but to something else. “It is in these, among other things, where they want to say 'One of the Trinity [was] crucified,' which is said neither in the holy synod nor in the letter of holy Pope Leo nor in ecclesiastical custom.”206 This is telling for several reasons. First, it reminds us that the theopaschite controversy, indeed I would go so far as to say most of the controversies in the sixth century, is not about theology in any narrow sense. What we have here, rather, is a reflection of the phenomenon Patrick Gray explicated in the essential article, “'The Select

Fathers': Canonizing the Patristic Past.”207 By the sixth century, it is not uncommon for the criterion of truth for theological claims to be its verbal inclusion in or exclusion from a text by one of a select canon of patristic texts. Theological argument in this context does not concern itself strictly with the truth or falsity of abstract propositions about God.

At heart, most theological arguments in this period are about canon and therefore ultimately about authority. Dioscorus scoffs at the Scythian suggestion not because it is untrue per se or even because it is not a natural extension of principles approved in the canon he accepts, but because it does not derive explicitly from a canonical text.

A second reason Dioscorus' complaint is so telling is in how he chooses to describe the canon. The theopaschite formula, thus stated, is “neither in the holy synod nor in the letter of holy Pope Leo nor in ecclesiastical custom.” The West generally, and

Dioscorus acting as representative of Rome, had a peculiar way of viewing the council of

Chalcedon. It was the holy synod to be sure, but statements such as this, so frequent in

206 “est in ipsis inter cetera, ubi uolunt dicere unum de trinitate crucifixum, quod est nec in sanctis synodis dictum nec in epistolis sanctis papae Leonis nec in consuetudine ecclesiastica.” loc. cit. 207 Patrick Gray, “‘The Select Fathers’: Canonizing the Patristic Past.” 23 (1989): 21-36.

102 this material, consistently imply that it was the holy synod because it confirmed the letters of holy Pope Leo. Yet as Gray has shown elsewhere, and as the East understood,

Chalcedon was in very important ways a Cyrillan council.208 This fact is most graphically illustrated in how the Tome of Leo is ultimately received at Chalcedon. To be sure, the acts famously record that it was greeted with shouts of “Peter has uttered this through

Leo.” But the standards by which the fathers of Chalcedon judged Leo's Tome quickly becomes clear.

Peter has uttered through Leo. The apostles taught accordingly. Leo taught piously and truly. Cyril taught accordingly. Eternal is the memory of Cyril. Leo and Cyril taught the same. Leo and Cyril taught accordingly. Anathema to him who does not believe accordingly! This is the true faith.209

Leo is received in this context as teaching the true faith because the Tome is judged compatible with Cyril's teaching. This is the way Eastern Chalcedonians continued to view Chalcedon and it doubtless shaped the strategy of the Scythian monks when they presented the theopaschite formula which itself derives directly from a Cyrillan text.

Dioscorus' first complaint points us therefore to a fundamental problem in the theological discourse of the age. Gray rightly stated that “sixth-century theologians conceived of themselves as the organizers and harmonizers of the sacred and intrinsically

208 Gray, Defense of Chalcedon, passim. 209 Price trans., Council of Chalcedon, 2:24-25. Price and Gaddis point to another equally telling passage as well: “Theodoret of , the champion of the Antiochene party, defended Leo by pointing out, 'There is a similar instance in the blessed Cyril which contains the words, “He became man without shedding what was his own, for he remained what he was; he is certainly conceived as one dwelling in another, that is, the divine nature in what is human”.' (II.26) Nothing could be more indicative of the mood of the council than the fact that even Theodoret had to defend the Tome by appealing to the authority of Cyril.” Price trans., Council of Chalcedon, 1:65-6.

103 complete tradition.210” While Gray's article was focused on the East, especially the

Chalcedonian East, I would suggest his statement applies equally well to the West. But the West's conception of that sacred and intrinsically complete tradition, i.e of the canon itself, differed from the East's. Thus one man's traditionalist claim becomes another's destructive innovation. The Roman delegation's failure to understand Chalcedon as the

Eastern Chalcedonians had made it impossible for them to understand what was central to the Scythian monks' position: that the theopaschite formula was a defense of Chalcedon.

Far from rejecting the Council which affirmed the Tome of Leo, the theopaschite confession was calculated to show that the Council and its supporters were above reproach. Instead of trying to understand this in his role as papal representative, correspondent, and confidant, Dioscorus attempts to guide Hormisdas' view of the theopaschite formula, even as the Scythians monks are route to Rome.

Dioscorus' second complaint against the Scythian monks is that their formula, if approved, “would produce no small number of dissensions and scandals among the churches.211” His complaint again is not primarily concerned with the truth or falsity of the formula. Even so, it is not inappropriate that he, who was sent as part of a delegation to end a schism, should be concerned to avoid anything that might precipitate dissension and scandal. It is somewhat ironic therefore that, outside the dispute with Paternus which began the controversy, the greatest dissension and scandal over the theopaschite formula would be produced in the delegation itself. Even so, seeing the dispute as it played out with Paternus might have led Dioscorus to the conclusion that broader controversy

210 Gray, “Select Fathers”, 35. 211 “quod si permittitur fieri, mihi uidetur dissensiones aut scandala non mediocria nasci inter ecclesias.” CA, Letter 216.6.

104 among Chalcedonians would be inevitable should theopaschism become an issue. It is only in light of this that his third complaint can be explained. For the third complaint, if we assume the truth of the theopaschite formula was the primary at issue, is a textbook case of the genetic fallacy.

The emperor Anastasius hastened particularly to impose this upon the catholics, and the disciples of Eutyches proposed it in the Synod of Chalcedon, since whenever the fathers debated concerning the Son of God, our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son, they said the Son of God, the Word consubstantial with the Father was homoousios with the Father.212

We should take this complaint to mean that the appearance of the claim, rather than its substance, is objectionable on account of its connection to Anastasius and the 'disciples of

Eutyches.' To read this otherwise would be to suggest uncharitably that this Dioscorus regarded a basically Nicene claim as false merely because those he regarded heretics had said something similar. The association of this language with Anastasius and Eutyches, if we read this charitably, is probably meant to reinforce the prior claim that the Scythian monks' formula would lead to dissensions and scandals. Indeed, recalling how the

Akoimetoi would oppose the theopaschite formula, much as they had the earlier changes to the Trisagion, we may see that Dioscorus at least sized up the pro-Roman monks of

212 “istud Anastasius imperator magnopere catholicis imponere festinauit, istud et Eutychetis discipuli in synodo Calcedonensi proposuerunt, quia quotienscumque patres de dei filio domino nostro Iesu Christo disputauerunt, filium dei uerbum consubstantialem patri, homousion patri dixerunt.” CA, Letter 216.7. Indicating that there are theological implications to this, Dioscorus proceeds to say, “iste autem sermo ideo numquam est in synodis a patribus introductus, quia procul dubio catholicae fidei minime poterat conuenire. cuius si subtiliter adtendatur intentio, ad quantas haereses pateat et quae mala per eu possint disputationibus ecclesiasticis introduci, quoniam longum est, praesentes insinuare poterimus.” ibid. 216.7-8. Unfortunately, in spite of his continual implications, Dioscorus never explains to us either how this would lead to heresy or to what heresies it would lead.

105 Constantinople well.

Dioscorus' fourth and fifth complaints against the Scythian monks tell us quite as much as the earlier complaints. The hard line Dioscorus takes comes out most clearly when we describe what would in fact be acceptable for the monks to say.

Whence it seems to me there is no other sound response to give that is both useful and in keeping with the peace of the church except that “The holy synod of Chalcedon suffices, wherein also the other synods are maintained; the epistles of pope Leo suffice, which the synod confirmed; we neither wish nor ought to introduce innovation into the church.213”

Much of the letter has been building up to this complaint. Dioscorus will quickly contrast his position, that Chalcedon suffices, with that of the Scythian monks. What is evident here, however, is a kind of inflexibility that makes negotiation impossible, perhaps intentionally.214 A statement such as this may reflect in part the position of the delegation itself. We may recall with what strict instructions they were sent. Given such instructions, the slightest deviation would undoubtedly seem to risk the project as a whole. Indeed after the fifth and final complaint Dioscorus indicates as much, warning a failure of all they had tried to accomplish.

Among other things, if after the Chalcedonian synod, if after the epistles of pope Leo, if after the libelli which bishops gave and give and by which they have made satisfaction to the apostolic seat again some new thing is added, so it seems me that whatever was built up is torn down.215

213 “unde sanum mihi uidetur et utile et ad pacem ecclesiarum conueniens nihil aliud responsum dare nisi 'sufficit sanctum Calcedonense concilium, in quo et aliae synodi continentur; sufficiunt epistolae papae Leonis, quas synodus confirmauit; nouitatem in ecclesiam introducere nec uolumus nec debeumus'.” CA, Letter 216.8. 214 Recall that the delegation was instructed not to negotiate. Vide supra, 65. 215 “inter alia si post synodum Calcedonensem, si post epistolas papae Leonis, si post libellos, quos dederunt et dant episcopi et per ipsos satisfecerunt sedi apostolicae, iterum aliquid nouum addatus, sic mihi uidetur, quia quicquid factum est destruitur.” CA, Letter 216.10.

106 Acting under strict instructions from Rome as ambassador to a penitent Constantinople, it is little surprise that Dioscorus should be so hardened in his position.216

Even so, if Dioscorus' fifth complaint has any veracity, he had every reason to believe that negotiation with the Scythian monks would not be a productive use of time.

The fifth complaint is a clear contrast with the fourth. Where Dioscorus would say that

'Chalcedon suffices', we are to understand the monks as slyly attacking Chalcedon by saying that it did not suffice against .217 According to Dioscorus, they customarily proceed to ask that Chalcedon be explained to them only in an effort to point out the council's inadequacies.

This image of the Scythians, basically as meddling, undiplomatic trouble-makers, is seconded by the letter addressed to Hormisdas from the whole delegation sent along with Dioscorus' letter. Yet the language of this letter presents us with an interesting comparison, as was hinted above. On the one hand, letter 217 has less tendency to attach unnecessary invective to its complaints about the Scythian monks and offers more details in its stead. On the other hand, a careful look at the language hints that, although the letter was addressed from the whole delegation, its main author of letter 217 may have been none other than Dioscorus.

The first evidence for this claim comes from Disocorus' habitual use of

216 That Dioscorus was anxious make clear to Hormisdas how closely he was adhering to the instructions is evident from an earlier passage concerning the choice of Paul for the See of Antioch: “uolerunt et temptauerunt hic eum ordinare; ego iussionis uestrae non immemor contradixi dicens 'iussit domnus noster beatissimus papa secundum antiquam consuetudinem ibi eum episcopum ordinari'. hoc obtinuit, quod praecepistis.” CA, Letter 216.4. 217 “Est in propositione eorum callida et hoc dicere 'nos synodum Calcedonensem suscepimus; hoc speramus, ut iubeatis nobis eam exponere. Quia non suffcit sic, quomodo est exposita, contra haeresim Nestoriam'.” CA, Letter 216.9.

107 magnopere which also makes an appearance in 217.218 Likewise, intentio is frequently used in both letters to cover a relatively wide range of circumstances where any number of other expressions could have been chosen.219 The close verbal parallels between certain passages, however, provides the strongest evidence. One may point, for example, to a semblance in how each letter describes the Scythian monk's immediate plans.

Letter 216.6 Letter 217.7-8 isti monachi, inter quos est Leontius, qui magnopere praedicti monachi ad Italiam se dicit parentem esse magistri militum, uenientes aliquanta capitula proponere Romam festinant sperantes aliquanta habent, inter quae et 'unum de trinitate capitula a beatitudine uestra confirmari. crucifixum' continetur, sperantes ita est in ipsis inter cetera, ubi uolunt dicere confirmari ex auctoritate beatudinis unum de trinitate crucifixum [...] uestra.

Some of the similarity can of course be accounted for by the like circumstances each letter describes. Even so, other similar passages may be cited and taken together with the other aspects of the letters mentioned above they build a plausible case that Dioscorus is largely responsible for this letter written in the name of the whole delegation.220

If Dioscorus is indeed responsible for drafting reports written in the name of the whole committee, it merely reinforces an image of him and his position that has been building all along. Despite his lack of formal position on the delegation, the deacon is its most influential member. He speaks for the delegation and, more importantly, he is able to manipulate and control the flow of information. Of those letters sent between the delegation and Hormisdas which survive in the Collectio Avellana, the majority are to

218 See CA, Letters 216.1, 216.5, 216.7, 217.8. 219 See CA, Letters 216.4, 216.8, 217.7, 217.11. 220 For other parallels, cf., e.g., the almost nervous insistence that the papal instructions were followed (at CA, Letters 216.4 and 217.6) and the cirumlocuitous manner of naming the Antiochian priest (CA, Letters 216.4 and 217.4).

108 and from the delegation as a whole. It is only with Dioscorus, however, that we find letters to and from an individual member.221 The slight change in tone between letter 216 and 217, whoever may have written the latter, may also reflect the difference between the informal relationship between Dioscorus and Hormisdas, on the one hand, and the official mission of the delegation, on the other.

Letter 217 offers us further information and complaints that letter 216 does not. It gives further detail about the dispute involving the appointment of Paul as bishop of

Antioch.222 As we have seen, it details Vitalian's promotion of the Scythian monks and the emperor’s intervention which was crucial to quelling the dispute developing between

Vitalian and the bishop of Tomis, Paternus. It includes also a discussion of the adequacy of Chalcedon and the writings of Pope Leo which closely follows what we have already seen in letter 216.223

Most interesting, however, is an additional and rather damning detail which merits our attention. It is evident enough, both from this letter, letter 216, and indeed from the

Scythian monks' own writings, that they felt the theopaschite formula would prove helpful to exonerate Chalcedon from the charge of Nestorianism. There is every reason to believe that they thought the charge unjust but that for reasons of placating anti-

Chalcedonians and preventing Nestorian resurgence the formula was advisable. If, however, we are to trust the delegation's witness we must contend with this odd claim:

[The Scythian monks] did not put the future judgment before their eyes, openly

221 By my count there are seven letters to (170, 219. 221, 226-29) and seven letters from (185, 213, 214, 217, 218, 223, 225) the delegation. There are two letters each to (173, 175) and from (21 224) Dioscorus personally. 222 CA, Letter 217.1. 223 CA, Letter 217.9.

109 saying, “All who were communing with the apostolic seat are Nestorians” and more from them that they ought not to believe, who only lately seem recalled to the apostolic seat.224

To the eyes of the Roman bishop, a heretical charge pronounced against all in communion with Rome would be damning indeed. I do not call the claim odd, however, simply because it features an accusation against Rome. John Maxentius, at the very least, was perfectly capable of writing against an author whom he had reason to believe was the bishop of Rome.225 It is an odd claim because it reports in direct discourse a charge of heresy made against Rome, all the while employing one of Rome's preferred legitimating honorifics. It would strain credibility to suggest that this is a literal transcription of the

Scythian monks' words. Of course, we ought always suspect speech reported in our sources, doubly when the witness is so clearly hostile. But given what we have seen thus far, it is not unfair to observe how the reports of Dioscorus and the delegation are manipulated to produce an image of the Scythian monks as aggressive heretics who undermine the work of the delegation, the council of Chalcedon, and the authority of

Pope Leo. In the very next letter, Dioscorus goes so far as to make this claim about the monks:

Yet your beatitude should know that these Scythians say all who accept Chalcedon are Nestorians, saying, “the synod does not suffice against Nestorius,”

224 “non posuerunt ante oculos suos futurum iudicium palam dicentes 'omnes, qui sedi apostolicae communicabant, Nestoriani sunt' et magis illis non debere credere, qui modo uidentur ad communionem sedis apostolicae reuocati.” CA, Letter 217.3. 225 See CCSL 85A.7(B), 123-53, “Responsio Maxenti Ioannis servi Dei adversus epistulam quam ad Possessorem a Romano episcopo dicunt haeretici destinatam”. This was a response to the letter contained in the same volume and tellingly entitled, “Epistula quae dicuntur esse papae Hormisdae ad Possessorem episcopum Africae qui est Constantinopoli.” CCSL 85A.7(A), 115-21.

110 and so the synod ought to be received in the way they have explained it.226

This claim, like that we have just seen from letter 217, is problematic on the face of it. To say categorically on the one hand “all who accept Chalcedon are Nestorians” and on the other hand that Chalcedon ought to be accepted if it understood correctly is to possess a unique flexibility of mind. The claim Dioscorus makes at the beginning of the sentence, i.e. that the Scythians believe Chalcedonians to be Nestorians, is probably best understood a Dioscorus' own explication of the Scythians' belief that Chalcedon is liable to a Nestorian interpretation. Likewise, letter 217 is less about giving the facts of what the Scythian monks did or did not say and more about shaping how the Scythian monks would be heard. With their position as the gate-keepers of information between Rome and

Constantinople, the delegation was able to exercise influence through the shaping of information.

Two Sudden Changes of Heart

The Scythians were fortunate to have preceded Dioscorus' letter to Rome. The delegation's letters were dated June 29, 519 and the monks had already arrived sometime in July or early August.227 There they seem to have received as strong a welcome as could be hoped, both for themselves and their ideas. The libellus which comes down to us thus bears the following title:

Libellus of the faith, which the legates of the apostolic seat would not accept in

226 “isti tamen Scythae sciat beatitudo uestro quia omnes accipientes synodum Calcedonensum Nestorianos dicunt dicentes 'non sufficit synodus contra Nestorium' et sic debere synodum suscipere, quomodo ispi exposuerint.” CA, Letter 224.7. 227 Thus Fr. Glorie, “Interea Paulinus et ipsi Scythae monachi Romam aduenerunt mense VII siue VIII ineunte.” CCSL 85A, xxix.

111 Constantinople, was received by the blessed Pope of Rome, Hormisdas, and, read in an assembly of the bishops of the whole church and even of all the senators, it was approved as catholic by all.228

The Scythian monks seemed, therefore, to have attained the advantage in Rome where they failed in Constantinople. As we have seen above, if taken strictly on terms of their theological proposals and if they successfully presented themselves as defenders of

Chalcedon, it is little surprise the Rome should receive them well.

Yet Diosorus' report did arrive in Rome and it seems the mood changed accordingly.229 John Maxentius later complained of being detained in Rome for nearly four months.230 It is clear that the monks' were detained on account of Dioscorus' influence. For one thing, we know that Hormisdas quickly sought further counsel from

Dioscorus after receiving letter 216. This may be deduced from letter 224 of the Collectio

Avellana, which presents itself as a reply to a papal request for advice.231 Before we consider the contents of Dioscorus' reply, however, our attention must be given to one of the stranger elements of the theopaschite controversy.

Dioscorus was not the only one who saw it fit to write Hormisdas upon the

228 “Libellus fidei quem legati apostolicae sedis Constantinopolim accipere noluerunt, susceptus est Romae a beato papa Hormisda, et, in conuentu episcoporum siue totius ecclesiae necnon etiam omnium senatorum lectus, catholicus est per omnia approbatus.” CCSL 85A, 5. 229 So too Amann, 1748: “Les dépêches des légats refroidirent les bonnes dispositions d'Hormisdas.” 230 “Responsio Maxentii Iohannis servi Dei abversus epistulam quam ad Possessorem a Romano episcopo dicunt haeretici destinatam” CCSL 85A, 132.270. 231 “Per Eulogium u. c. litteras beatitudinis uestra suscepimus, in quibus significastis intentionem monachorum Scythicorum et quomodo uisum fuerat apostolatui uestro episcopo Constantinopolitano causam delegare, ut ipse inter eos et qui ab eis impetuntur audiret.” CA, Letter 224.1. Letters 189 and 190, which we will soon examine, provide an even stronger indication.

112 Scythian's departure from Rome. Justinian wrote two letters, the first of which was carried by Eulogius along with letters 216 and 217 of the Collectio Avellana and is dated with them at June 29, 519.232 The second followed closely on the heels of the first, being dated sometime at the beginning of July in the same year.233 The strangeness of these two letters, indeed of the whole situation, lies in the sudden contrast between them.

The first, letter 187, resembles the contemporary dispatches of the delegation in important ways. Dioscorus had described the Scythian monks as men whose restlessness would put the unity of the church at risk.234 The same description is found in Justinian's letter.235 Dioscorus had warned that the Scythians were attempting to introduce novelties not to be found in in the council of Chalcedon or in the epistles of Leo.236 Justinian joined in this same complaint.237 After this complaint, Justinian may even make a direct reference to the opinions of the delegation on the matter. I say may, because the text runs into some difficulties here. There is a lacuna in the text directly after what I suggest is a reference to the delegation, producing the following:

[...] quam etiam ob rem et a uiris reuerentissimis episcopis et diaconibus directis ab apostulatu uestro * * ad nos angelus uester destinare dignetur et ipsos digna correctione perculsos, ut superius dictum est, pellere iubeat.238

232 CA, Letter 187. 233 CA, Letter 191. 234 “[...] quorum inquietudo non paruas moras generauit unitati ecclesiarum [...]” CA, Letter 216.5 235 “haec nostra est maxima sollicitudinis causa, ne unitas, quam uester labor orationque perfecit, per inquietos homines dissipetur [...]” CA, Letter 187.4 236 CA, Letter 216.6 237 “[...] quoniam uaniloquia ipsorum festinatium nouitates introducere in ecclesia, quod neque quattuor synodi uenerabiles neque sancti papae Leonis epistolae continere noscuntur, in omni loco turbas excitare uidentur” CA, Letter 187.2 238 CA, Letter 187.3.

113 To make an educated guess, based on the contents of the letter and what Justinian elsewhere requests, one may suppose an opinion on the matter was requested. If this supposition is correct, then the reference before the lacuna may be to the delegation’s view that an authoritative and negative opinion of the Scythian formula ought to be sought from the Pope. This would be in keeping with their mission and compatible with the letters they wrote.

It is highly probable in any case that letter 187, sent with letters 216 and 217, was also drafted under the advice of the delegation. All the letters build the same argument, use similar language, and have the same agenda: the preempt the Scythian monks' appeal to Hormisdas. In addition to warning the pope of the coming monks, Justinian's letter even suggests that they be thrown from Rome upon their arrival.239

The second letter, number 191 of the Collectio Avellana, is altogether different. It is so different, in point of fact, that it presents us with a puzzle. Making no reference to his earlier letter or to the Roman delegation, Justinian introduces the subject of this letter with an emphasis on unity and some important references.

Whatever is more prudent, whatever more constant, so it be carried out for the holy faith and for the concord of the sacred churches, that we desire. Whence our brother, the most glorious Vitalian, through the defender of your church Paulinus, v.s., wrote to your beatitude and by the same man we too have undertaken to indicate that your beatitude ought to bring about those things which would permit the peace and concord for the holy churches. And so to your sanctity we have immediately sent with letters of our most pious emperor him who may bring back a rather more settled answer; for how great a question has arisen in our parts, the aforementioned religious defender can indeed instruct your sanctity.240

239 “quos beatitudo uestra praesentibus scriptis causam liuoris eorum cognoscens ita, ut merentur, suscipere et a se longe pellere dignetur” CA, Letter 187.2 240 94 “Quicquid est cautius, quicquid firmius, ut pro sancta fide et concordia sacrarum ecclesiarum geratur, optamus. Unde ad beatitudienm uestram et frater noster gloriosissimus Uitalianus per Paulinum u. s. Defensorum uestrae

114 The important question to which Justinian refers, as we will see momentarily, is none other than the status of the theopaschite confession. It is instructive however to notice at once the stress Justinian places on his connection to Vitalian, a connection he shares with the Scythian monks. That Vitalian should be mentioned in the first favorable letter

Justinian writes concerning the Scythian monks, and that the same should be excluded from a hostile letter in favor of the delegation, hints that Vitalian himself may be responsible for Justinian's change of heart. The letter continues:

Whence we ask that, if it is possible, with a swift reply given and religious monks satisfied, you send John and Leontius back to us. For if that question is not solved by your prayers and attentiveness, we fear that the peace of the holy churches will be unable to come forth. Therefore knowing that the reward and risk of that affair is watched over by you, carefully discuss and send back to us a very substantial answer by the aforementioned monks, if it is possible, before our legate reaches your beatitude; for the whole effort depends on this alone.241

Within a very few days Justinian had moved from viewing the Scythian monks as a threat to treating them as allies. Indeed, he even goes as far as to imply through his positive treatment of the monks, though he does not say this explicitly, that the unity of the church depends on a positive response from the pope. This is the exact opposite of what he had

ecclesiae rescripsit et nos per eundem significare curauimus illa debere beatitudinem uestram perficere, quae pacem et concordiam sanctis concedant ecclesiis. Subinde tamen, qui certius responsum ad sactitatem uestram referat, cum litteris piissimi nostri imperatoris destinauimus; nam quanta quaestio in partibus nostris orta est, potest etiam antefatus uir religiosus defensor sanctitatem uestram instruere.” CA, Letter 191.1-2 241 “unde petimus ut, si est possibile, celerrimo dato responso et satisfactis religiosis monachis Iohannem et Leontium ad nos remittatis. Nisi enim precibus et diligentia uestra ista quaestio soluta fuerit, ueremur, ne non possit pax sactarum ecclesiarum prouenire. Ergo congnoscentes, quia et mercees et periculum istius rei uobis seruatur, diligenter tractate et firmissimum responsum per antefatos religiosos monachos, si est possibile, antequam legatus noster ad beatidinem uestram perueniat, nobis remittite; in hoc enim solo omnis pendet intentio.” CA, Letter 191.3-4

115 claimed in the previous letter. Accounting for this sudden change is not easy and can never be certain. But we are not without hints.

As we have seen, letters 216, 217, and 224 all make explicit mention of Vitalian's involvement in the case of the Scythian monks'. That he acted as their advocate has already been shown. But where these earlier letters speak of Vitalian's presence at the hearing held for the monks, they are altogether silent about Justinian. It is widely accepted that Justinian was more personally involved in theological controversies than his royal uncle. But it is Justin who appears in letter 217, involved in the hearing and reconciling Paternus and Vitalian.242 Justinian's absence from the letter certainly does not indicate his absence from the hearing, but it opens the possibility.

We can say for certain that not all the hearings concerning the Scythian monks involved all those who were part of this controversy. At one point, Dioscorus makes this complaint:

Afterwards without us, the vir magnificus Vitalian, magister militum, and the bishop of Constantinople called the aforementioned Victor among themselves; they spoke with him: what they settled among themselves, we do not know. Afterwards, neither Victor came to us nor was the case pled.243

Vitalian and the patriarch thought a solution to Victor's objections to the Scythian monks could best be achieved without the presence of the Roman delegation who had come to dislike the monks intensely. Up to that point, we have no evidence of Justinian's involvement in the controversy in any capacity. After this incident, however, we find

242 CA, Letter 217.7 243 “postea sine nobis magnificus uir Uitalianus magister militum inter se et epscopum Constantinopolitanum uocauerunt praedictum Uictorem; locuti sunt cum eo: quid definierunt inter se, nescimus. postea nec Uictor ad nos uenit nec esta causa dicta.” CA, Letter 224.6

116 Justinian writing against the Scythian monks with the very delegation who had fallen so far out of favor with Vitalian and the patriarch.244

This combination of circumstances presents us with an enticing explanation for

Justinian's sudden reversal. Justinian's initial hostility to the Scythian monks may be credited to his source of information about them. From what we have seen in letter 187,

Justinian was clearly aware of the version of events that Dioscorus and the delegation gives in letters 216 and 217. Indeed, this seemed to have shaped his view of the monks. If

Justinian was not present at the hearing, then it is only the more certain that he would have depended on Dioscorus for information.

Justinian's new-found appreciation for the monks in letter 191 is, as is noted above, accompanied by an acknowledgment that he was by then aware of the information

Vitalian sent to Rome. By the time Justinian writes letter 191 he has at least two sources of information and he now favors the position of Vitalian. The likeliest explanation for

Justinian's reversal, therefore, is that through his contact with Vitalian he was given a perspective on some events that Dioscorus could not have, because of his absence, and a perspective on other events that Dioscorus did not want to give, because of his opposition to the monks.

This is the exact inverse of what we see with Hormisdas. His apparent early acceptance of the Scythian monks was conditioned by his ignorance of Dioscorus' position. As we have begun to see, Dioscorus' letter put that early acceptance in doubt.

This shows how very important the control of information was to Dioscorus in his ability

244 After the humiliation of having to condemn his predecessor, the patriarch can have had little love for the Roman delegation. But the delegation had proven themselves poor at making friends generally as Frend, 247, notes.

117 to control the views of his ostensible superiors.

Justinian changed his views on the Scythian monks and the preponderance of evidence points to his connection to Vitalian, if as nothing more than a source of information, as the best explanation for this change. Likewise, Hormisdas' shifting opinion about the Scythian monks and their formulations may be attributed to shifting sources of information. As discussed earlier, the Scythians were initially welcomed in

Rome. But when letters 216, 217, and 187 arrived in Rome, they gave Hormisdas reason to doubt. After his change of mind, Justinian wrote Hormisdas requesting a response on the matter of the theopaschite formula but found himself frustrated. Hormisdas' reply in letter 190, dated September 2, 519, reveals his dependence on Dioscorus. In this letter,

Hormisdas avoids giving any direct answer to the theopaschite question. Instead, he claims that the Scythian monks themselves refuse to leave Rome, fearing that they might be ambushed on the road.245 They had not yet been expelled from Rome, however, because Hormisdas awaited further information from the delegation.246

Dioscorus' advice arrived in the form of letter 224, dated October 15, 519. We have already noted several of the more aggressively anti-Scythian aspects of this letter and need not belabor the point. If Hormisdas had begun to hesitate with the arrival of the delegation's letters, an equally if not more important event was the return of the delegation itself. We know that the Scythian monks had come to Rome sometime in July or early August, 519. Thereafter, they were detained for fourteen months while

Hormisdas considered their case. This would place their expulsion sometime around

245 CA, Letter 190.2. 246 “quapropter necesse habebimus uenientibus legatis nostris inquirere, qua re uera faciente causa inter eos fuerit commota discordia.” CA, Letter 190.3

118 September or October of 520. Despite Justinian's repeated requests for a response on the theopaschite question, we have no evidence of any other changes in this period save one.

Letter 192, written by Justin, was carried on the return trip of the delegation to Rome. Its date of reception is September 17, 520. This places the expulsion of the Scythian monks from Rome at precisely the same time when the delegation returned from Constantinople.

Having left Constantinople on account of their conflict with Dioscorus, the Scythian monks now found his return made them unwelcome in Rome as well.

At the center of the apparent indecision of both Hormisdas and Justinian is the influence of Dioscorus. Influence can seem a difficult thing to define. In some cases, it can derive from individual charisma, in others, from a formal and ritualized office. But the case of Dioscorus reveals how a position within a network as gate-keeper of information can grant one an otherwise unexpected amount of control over events. The papacy relied on the delegation to represent its interests in Constantinople. But even as the pope used the delegation to project papal influence, papal attitudes toward the

Scythian monks were shaped by the information that delegation could provide and the way in which the delegation chose to spin that information. This could be uncomfortable for historians to accept because it has unfortunate consequences for our ability to reconstruct events. Our sources tend to focus on those who are most obviously able to shape events through their exercise of formal positions of power. But institutional behavior and policy making can often be shaped by the actions of individuals with vastly less formal power. In this case even Justinian, who himself already exercised a great deal of informal influence in the empire, was subject to the sources of information available to

119 him. This also draws one to question any picture of Justinian as capricious or indecisive during the theopaschite controversy. The case as a whole has offered us a rare opportunity to see just how much influence may be exercised by those who could occupy the spaces between acknowledged centers of power.

120 Chapter 3: The Court’s Anti-Chalcedonians

If the early stage of Justin's reign was marked by an attempt to secure the connection between Constantinople and Rome on Chalcedonian grounds, the early stage of

Justinian's reign was marked by an attempt to secure unity with the anti-Chalcedonians which did not directly undermine Chalcedon. Like the earlier reunification with Rome, repairing relations with the anti-Chalcedonians would naturally require communication and would be affected by all the complications thereof which we have discussed in previous chapters. Human relationships would necessarily shape the course and trajectory of these negotiations, both for better and for worse. The period would begin with promising developments, as the emperor consciously cultivated a space at court wherein he could engage the anti-Chalcedonians and draw them closer to his desired ends.

Unfortunately for the cause of unity, this very closeness would backfire, resulting in a reaction against the anti-Chalcedonians which could not but make it clear to them that a hierarchy independent of the imperial church would be their only remaining solution.

Future efforts toward unity would prove futile with the establishment of this hierarchy, but the emperor never seems to have fully understood this fact.

The Colloquium of 532

We will begin to look at this period by focusing on an unprecedented and largely unrepeated event in the history of Eastern Christian doctrinal controversy. The emperor

Justinian called a conference of bishops together in 532 to discuss the doubts about

Chalcedon and to seek solutions to the widening schism of the sixth century. This, in itself, is unremarkable. What is remarkable is that both anti-Chalcedonian and

121 Chalcedonian bishops were called in equal numbers and that by all accounts their conversations were both civil and in some ways even fruitful.

The Colloquium of 532 offers a unique insight into sixth-century doctrinal controversy, inasmuch as we have accounts of the conference from both Chalcedonian and anti-Chalcedonian sources. While there are certainly differences between the accounts in terms of emphasis, the length of time devoted to speakers, and other obvious signs of bias, the basic outline of these accounts bears a remarkable similarity. This similarity makes the differences that do exist all the more important, as they highlight the self-construction of the participants.

The Chalcedonian account which comes down to us was written by one of the participants, a bishop Innocentius of Maronia, as a letter to Thomas, a priest of

Thessaloniki.247 The letter, written in Latin, recounts discussions from all three days of the conference as well as a preliminary meeting held between Justinian and at least some of the Chalcedonians. Fortunately, the account is in its complete form. The Severan account survives in a Harvard Syriac manuscript which was found and published for the first time in 1981 by Sebastian Brock, who also provided a translation.248

This account too begins with a preliminary meeting, in this case between the

Severan bishops and the emperor. Unfortunately, this manuscript is not so well preserved or attested as that of Innocentius. Lacunae abound and authorship remains uncertain.

Even so, enough of the three days of meeting remain to make a worthy comparison. In addition to these, there is a copy of the doctrinal statement presented by the Severan

247 ACO 4.2, 169-184. 248 Sebastian Brock, “The Conversations with the Syrian Orthodox under Justinian (532)” Orientalia Christiana Periodica 47 (1981): 87-121.

122 bishops to the emperor in the Ecclesiastical History of Pseudo Zachariah Rhetor, as well as a very short anonymous summary of the meeting published in the Patrologia

Orientalis.249

The orthodox bishops said to them: 'Tell (us) now whether you accept the Letter of Ibas?' The opposing bishops were put out by this too, and said: 'We do not accept what was wrongly said in it'. In retort the orthodox bishops said: 'Then, in the case of Nestorius or any other heretic, you hold it is only necessary to reject what is wrongly said, and no more. It was in vain, it seems, that the all-wise fighters for the mysteries of the Church anathematized the heretics, in that the latter said a few things that were not wrong, but which are worthy of acceptance.250'

To a reader accustomed to the strenuous and even vitriolic denunciations passed between competing parties in the century after Chalcedon, the Colloquium of 532 will come as something of a surprise. The meetings held in 532, at least as far as the evidence shows, were not simple exercises in mutual condemnation. Real discussion and even negotiation did occur. The reader is left with the distinct impression that differences between the Severan party and the Chalcedonians were not altogether insoluble. But the grounds for discussion were not, perhaps, what one might expect. As we shall see, in matters of theological definitions, the parties either stood in agreement or simply talked past one another. However, we will find real grounds for discussion interspersed among the points of concord and contention. In this context, the search for consensus between the two parties shows an attempt to form a common in-group, defined as always against a common out-group. After recognizing this important point, we will come at last to the heart of the negotiations: the centrality of the emperor, influence, and access.

249 PO 13, 192-6. 250 Brock, “Conversations,” 102.21-22.

123 Turning first to the Severan account, we readily find a willingness to find some common ground, or at least the appearance thereof. The anonymous author of the Severan account records several items which might have easily turned into stumbling blocks, but were instead resolved or at least set aside for the sake of focusing on more important issues. Perhaps the best example of this is the status of Dioscorus of Alexandria after

Chalcedon. In the final analysis, the Chalcedonians refused to make Dioscorus' personal orthodoxy a sticking point.

The orthodox bishops said: 'Reserve those words and the discussion of them for the proper time; but now tell us, do you hold the blessed Dioscorus to be a heretic?'. The opposing bishops say: 'We do not hold him to be a heretic, for his opinions were orthodox, but he was neglectful in matters of urgent importance'. After this they added other lines of argument, saying that the synod of Chalcedon had met very usefully on the matter of Eutyches.251

Of course, we would expect the Severan account to emphasize any acknowledgment of the of their position from the Chalcedonian side, just as we would expect the inverse. At first, the Chalcedonian account goes into far greater detail regarding the discussion wherein Dioscorus' status is raised. This appears to be a chance to highlight the argumentative prowess of the hero of that account. Hypatius is pictured proceeding step by step from the heresy of Eutyches to broader justification for convening

Chalcedon. But the question of Dioscorus' personal orthodoxy is here passed over. The condemnation of Dioscorus does not seem a goal of the Chalcedonian party, whose real purpose seems rather to establish that Chalcedon was called with good reason. The

Chalcedonian account includes a canny reply from the Severans to this question, but one which does not deny in principle the Chalcedonian position.

251 Brock, “Conversations,” 96.8.

124 The bishop said, “It is shown to you, therefore, that the Chalcedonian council was justly convened.” Those opposing said, “It was justly convened, if it also undertook a just end.”252

Dioscorus was not the only matter on which both sides were willing to treat peacefully. While the question is neglected in the Chalcedonian account, the Severan account portrays a willingness on the Severans' part to accept the of their opponents.

With this the first day's session was dissolved. Other things were discussed there (too), about ordinations (cheirotoniai): on these the orthodox bishops said that the ordinations which were transmitted from the synod of Chalcedon were confirmed by true faith and by communion with the orthodox.253

If we follow the Severan account further, we might add that the Chalcedonians do not openly reject the position of the Severans.

The orthodox bishops asked for the statement they had given to the emperor to be read. They straightway provided a copy and it was read out, after which they asked the opponents saying: 'Say if you have anything you find fault with in this statement'. The opposing bishops replied: 'We hold a moderate opinion about it'.254

To be sure, it might make sense for the Severans to present the Chalcedonians as submitting to all their demands. But that is not what we see here, nor would it help their cause to distort the record in this particular. For their plerophoria was handed over to the emperor, their positions were known, and records of the meeting were kept. It seems likely that the Chalcedonians were, in fact, willing to entertain much of the Severans' position and despite the length of arguments we find in the Chalcedonian account, both sides seem willing to triage many questions to better focus on the few they truly cared

252 ACO 4.2 171.20. 253 Brock, “Conversations,” 96.9. 254 Brock, “Conversations,” 96.12-98.13.

125 about.

Indeed, there was one point of strong and fervent agreement on both sides: the status of Eutyches. In both accounts, Eutyches is described in terms of disapprobation throughout the accounts. This is the common language, the rejection of a heretic, that makes it possible for both sides to communicate. The talks make progress because, within this idiom, they are able to create some consensus concerning a shared enemy. As we shall see, this approach is taken further as our interlocutors work toward constructing a shared in-group identity around the rejection of heretics.

In-Group and Out-Group Construction

Orthodoxy in the sixth century is defined by the faith of the fathers, as Patrick

Gray has often argued.255 Yet, if this is orthodoxy, it is not an idle question to ask who the orthodox are. One might beg the question with the reply, those who follow the faith of the fathers. But in practice no one considered himself anything other than orthodox even as he made determinations about the orthodoxy and of his contemporaries. To determine how a group might define itself as orthodox in a world where others claim the same, we must examine more closely the relationship between group identity and orthodoxy. In the context of the Colloquium of 532 we are able to see the dynamics of identity in action as both sides, both reckoning themselves fully orthodox and beginning with the assumption that the other is at least partly mistaken, seek to establish and negotiate the bounds of who is orthodox. Orthodox--i.e. in-group--identity in this context is first connected to the common submission not just to the patristic past, but to the

255 Gray, “Select Fathers,” passim.

126 correct set of patristic authorities. An important consequence of this fact is that these authorities might be negotiated and even rejected by either side through source criticism.

The way both Innocentius and the author of the Harvard manuscript identify the participants presents an important if somewhat obvious contrast. The Severan account always presents the bishops acting as groups, rather than as individuals, with the

Severans described simply as "the orthodox bishops" and the Chalcedonians, for the most part, as "the opposing bishops"

Innocentius' presentation, on the contrary, treats only the Severans as a group, identifying them either as "Orientales" or, more frequently in describing the debates,

"contradicentes." Though the Chalcedonians had a full delegation of six bishops at the conference, the bishop Hypatius is presented as speaking for the whole group. So exclusive is his role that he is named simply as "episcopus" throughout most of the account. Both accounts dismiss the members of the other side by lumping them together simply as the opposition. Each account affirms the value of its own side, the Severan account by the title "orthodox" and the account of Innocentius by its exclusive application of personal authority to the bishop Hypatius. I would suggest, therefore, that the very language of each account encodes assumptions about the identity of the participants.

There is one exception in Innocentius' letter that proves this rule. In addition to being simply called "the bishop", Hypatius is described on several occasions as "vir reverentissimus". This title, conventional as it is, takes on an important meaning when we compare its other uses in the account. It only appears twice. The first time it is used at the beginning of the conference by the Imperial representative at the conference, the

127 Strategius, as he relates the story of his father's decision to follow to become a

Chalcedonian.

[Y]ou also know that my father Appius, of glorious memory, who descended from the province of the Egyptians and supported your as much as that of the Alexandrians, was hesitating to commune with the greater part of the holy church established in this city; but our most pious and faithful emperors convinced him with reason that those very reverend bishops (reverentissimi viri episcopi) who were gathered together in Chalcedon handed down to us no other symbol or faith than the very one which was confirmed in Nicaea, in Constantinople, and in Ephesus. Those same men decreed the faith and condemned both Nestorius and Eutyches, who introduced new heresies. Persuaded by this reason, my father communed with the holy church.256

We may see in the use of this title a verbal identification between the authority of the bishops of Chalcedon and the bishop Hypatius. The identification is strengthened further by the final use of the title. At the end of his account, Innocentius relates that among the

Severans a single bishop was persuaded by the arguments of the Chalcedonians. In his list of the bishops present at the beginning of his account, Innocentius merely calls this bishop Philoxenus of Dulichium. Once Philoxenus is persuaded, however, not only does he now merit a position as the subject of a verb, but he even merits the title "vir reverentissimus episcopus Filoxenus".257 Innocentius grants Philoxenus both a personality and an identity with his submission to the authority of Chalcedon.

The elements of orthodox identity, which Innocentius finally ascribed to

Philoxenus, form the main body of the discussion in both major accounts of the conference. But the way orthodox identity is negotiated in this context might be surprising. For the conference did not consist of theologians debating the merits of this or that theology in the abstract. The bishops are not presented by either party as rejecting a

256 ACO 4.2, 170.8. 257 ACO 4.2, 184.88.

128 position primarily because of a consistency with Christological, soteriological, or

Trinitarian axioms. Theology abstracted in this way would not be in keeping with the spirit of the age. The negotiation over who can and cannot be identified as orthodox occurs not over theological positions as such. Instead, it concerns primarily whom to recognize as an authority--and, as we shall see, whom to reject as an heretic. If, in accordance with Gray, Orthodoxy is defined in this age as the faith of the fathers, then it follows that orthodox identity would be a function of which texts of which fathers would be recognized as legitimate authorities.

It is no surprise, therefore, that both major accounts of the conference devote a considerable amount of attention to the criticism of sources. The better part of the second day in Innocentius' account is devoted to the dual question of which texts ought to be accepted as a legitimate witness of commonly recognized authorities and which texts ought to rejected as little more than authorities for heretics. It is telling, for example, that

Innocentius' account dwells at length on a famous forgery.

Two phrases, now turned partisan slogans, had become items of contention between the Severans and the Chalcedonians. Little debate is recorded at the conference over the acceptability of these phrases from the abstract theological perspective. The debate centered instead on whether patristic witnesses could be cited in their support. As is well known, the Chalcedonian formulae insisted upon the phrase "two natures" as the touchstone of its Christology. When challenged to present their objections to Chalcedon, the Severans in Innocentius' letter have immediate recourse to the phrase "two natures", rejecting it as an innovation. Rather than use such a novel phrase, they argued, one ought

129 to adhere to what "blessed Cyril and his predecessors preached, 'from two natures', one incarnate nature of God the Word after the union".258

We will return to this language of "one incarnate nature of God the Word" in a moment, but for now it is important to point out that Hypatius' response may have been enough to move the discussion away from patristic prooftexting. For Hypatius, granting that every novelty was alien but adding that not all are blameworthy, asked whether they condemned the phrase "two natures" merely because it was alien or because it was blameworthy.259

One might expect such a question to provoke a discussion on the utility, the dangers, or the limits of theological formulae. What one finds is that the phrase is to be condemned for both as alien and blameworthy. Yet, rather than telling precisely why the phrase ought to be condemned as blameworthy, the Severans are pictured as contenting themselves to objecting to the fact that it is alien to the tradition, apparently regarding this a sufficient proof of its blameworthiness.

For they who dare to preach two natures after the union transgress against Cyril and blessed Athanasius, the bishops of the city of Alexandria, and even Felix and Julius of the city of Rome, and moreover Gregory the Wonder Worker and Dionysius the Aeropagite, since all these determined one nature of God the Word after the union.

Lest one suspect that the Severans' apparent tone deafness to the distinction between the alien and the blameworthy was merely a product of the bias of the Chalcedonian account,

Innocentius treats Hypatius as though he had himself forgotten the distinction. In a later generation, St. was willing to take up the phrase 'one incarnate

258 ACO 4.2 171.21. 259 ACO 4.2 171.21-172.22.

130 nature of God the Word' and show how it could be best understood in light of Chalcedon, but apparently this is not the solution that suggests itself in the sixth-century. Hypatius responds not by attacking the value of the phrase as a theological formula, but by undermining it with textual criticism. He rejects the veracity of the Cyrillan provenance of the letters cited as evidence "because it seems, I know not from whom, that the opinion of Arius or Apollinarius was imposed upon it; for neither was Arius or Apollinarius ever a confessor of the two natures, but they put forward rather recently the one incarnate nature of God the Word, that they might bring in the divine nature of the Word itself as created and passible. Against those two, all the holy fathers decreed two substances and two natures.”260

When the Severans were scandalized by what seemed to be an imputation of forgery against them, Hypatius replied thus: "We do not suspect you, but the ancient

Apollinian heretics who blame him in the epistle he composed to the Orientals on behalf of union and peace concerning the two natures [...]."261

That it turns out Hypatius was correct about this famous forgery is less important, for our purposes, than the fact that theological discourse was in the process of taking a new and interesting turn. Gray was quite right to argue that forgery had become a tool of theological debate in an age wherein all parties claimed to be legitimate heirs to the faith of the fathers.262

A corollary we might emphasize here is that where forgery can be a tool of

260 ACO 4.2 172.23. 261 ACO 4.2 172.25. 262 Gray, Patrick. “Forgery as an Instrument of Progress: Reconstructing the Theological Tradition in the Sixth Century.” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 81 (1988): 284-289.

131 theological debate, so can textual criticism. The ability to undermine the textual support used by another is the ability to take from them the grounds whereby they identify themselves as the true followers of the fathers. We may even go so far as to say that the possibility of attacking the legitimacy of texts suggests itself in this context. This is an important step to which we will return in one moment.

At the present, we should look at the rather different treatment of what is likely the same day of the conference in the Harvard Syriac text. Here, the discussion of the

Apollinarian forgery is conspicuously absent. The reason for the exclusion of this embarrassment is obvious enough, but where the accounts differ on the details they agree on in their assumptions about the conduct of theological discourse. In this version, once the Severan bishops have cited a prooftext in favor of the 'single nature of God the Word incarnate', the Chalcedonians, not to be outdone, offered to defend the 'two natures' in the same manner.

The opposing bishops said: 'We too (will) introduce the holy fathers and show that they spoke of two natures with reference to Christ'. The orthodox bishops pressed them, saying: 'Show us the God-clothed fathers who (used) these words and said that it is right to call Christ two united and inseparate natures after the union; just as we have (ourselves) shown that they taught that after the union [it is right to speak of only a single nature of God the Word incarnate']. The opposing bishops promised: 'We will show this tomorrow.'263

Innocentius' account does mention that many such testimonies were prepared at the end of the second day, but it does not explicitly say these testimonies were prepared for the benefit of the Severans.264 Therefore the account can perhaps be reconciled with the almost gloating statement of the Harvard text.

263 Brock, “Conversations,” 106.31-32. 264 ACO 4.2 182.79.

132 [T]he next day, without having yet provided the testimonies of the holy fathers which they had promised – indeed they could not have done so – [the opposing bishops] came together to the emperor and sent for the orthodox bishops to come too.265

For both sides, therefore, identity as orthodox was regarded as exclusive to those who could cite textual support, and thus the support of the fathers, in favor of their claim. To deal with the fact that both sides could, therefore, required a final defining element.

To claim the faith of the fathers may be enough to create a common identity among believers in a time when all agree. For all to claim the faith of the fathers in a time of such great disagreement, especially when all are adept at supporting such claims with textual evidence, presents new problems. It is difficult to maintain an exclusive identity as orthodox when the standards used are also used by those rejected as other. More precise standards were required and they were to be found not so much in the affirmation of fathers as the condemnation of heretics.

Within this context of identity, we should return again to the legitimacy of the condemnation of Dioscorus. The issue of Dioscorus was not whether he affirmed the right fathers, so much as whether he condemned the right heretics in the proper manner.

In both major accounts of the conference, Dioscorus becomes an issue on the grounds of his acceptance of Eutyches. The status of Dioscorus is treated as an issue from the outset of the Syriac account.

When they assembled and sat down facing each other, Hypatius began churning over his usual old inanities, blaming the blessed Dioscorus for accepting the wicked Eutyches at the second synod of Ephesus. It is the custom of the upholders of the heresy of Nestorius to collect together empty complaints against the orthodox fathers: since they cannot make a defence for their own flimsy teachings, they hope to cover up their own wicked beliefs and not let them be

265 Brock, “Conversations,” 108.34.

133 examined, by means of calumnies against the saints. The orthodox bishops, however, were well aware of their opponents' cunning, how, by inviting them to make a defence for the blessed Dioscorus, they would go on to accuse them of the heresy of Eutyches. Accordingly, the orthodox bishops began by anathematizing Eutyches, and having thus thrown off from themselves any suspicion of the heresy of Eutyches – (a suspicion) that their opponents wanted to bring upon them – [...] the orthodox bishops began to fight on behalf of the blessed Dioscorus, showing how Eutyches had submitted a libellus in which he acknowledged the orthodox faith, anathematizing who says that our Lord brought his body down from heaven, acknowledging too the teaching of the fathers and accepting the creed of Nicea, and that it was (only) after this that Dioscorus had accepted him.266

The importance of the association between Dioscorus and Eutyches is more essential here than any particular theological position Dioscorus might have held. This is illustrative first by the assumption that the accusation that Dioscorus had not condemned a heretic was a threat. The Severans defend Dioscorus not by discussing his teachings, but by anathematizing Eutyches all the more loudly.

Likewise, we find the assumption that one must condemn the correct heretics to be reckoned orthodox built into every question thrown at the Severans.

The Orientals said, "We have extended the charter of satisfaction composed about our faith to the most pious emperor and we have covered all those things which seemed doubtful to us and were scandalizing us." The very reverend Hypatius, just as though he'd become our mouth and blessed Peter of the apostles, responded saying, "We have looked over that charter, wherein, as much above as below, you have accused the Chalcedonian council because it was convened against the Eutychian heresy; wherefore tell us what sort of opinion you hold about Eutyches?" The Orientals said, "Just as a heretic, or rather more nearly as the prince of heresy." The man, the very reverend bishop, said, "And about Dioscorus, indeed about the second council in Ephesus which was called by him, what sort of opinion?" The Orientals: "Just as of the orthodox." The bishop said, "If you condemn Eutyches just as a heretic, how do you say that Dioscorus and those who convened with him are orthodox who vindicated Eutyches on the one hand and condemned Flavius and Eusebius on the other?" The Orientals: "Perhaps the penance done vindicated Eutyches.267"

266 Brock, “Conversations,” 94.4-5. 267 ACO 4 170.9-11.

134 We can say with a fair degree of certainty, therefore, that when there is general agreement upon whom to praise as a father, whom to condemn as a heretic becomes all the more important. While people may share many particulars, the boundaries of the in-group are not finally settled until the out-group is defined. But what effect, we might ask, does this have on theological development in the sixth century as a whole? Formulae of reconciliation had been tried in the past and would be tried again in the future, but the major controversy of the sixth-century is not about about theological formulae so much as the common condemnation of the proper persons. When, in addition to their statement of faith, the Severans are asked what other problems they have with Chalcedon, their reply is to reject its orthodoxy because it does not reject all the right heretics.

The orthodox bishops said: 'That is not all; we have many more things to censure in the synod, but above all else, the fact that they accepted Ibas, and again that they accepted the basis of his Letter to Mari the Persian which they accepted when it was read out before them, (despite) its being full of every wickedness; and on its basis they held (Ibas) to be orthodox. They also accepted the wicked Theodoret, without having changed from his evil belief; and they gave him back the priesthood too.268'

This response from the Syriac account points to an outcome of the Colloquium of 532 with direct implications for Justinian's religious policy. With commonly acknowledged fathers and some small agreement on the part of each side that the other might not be complete heretics, the question remained how a common in-group identity as orthodox could be established. Innocentius' account spends some considerable amount of time on the question of the Three Chapters, with the emperor clearly interested in the possibility of condemning them to achieve unity with the Severans. Although the Severans present apparently denied that they could themselves produce some common statement of faith,

268 Brock, “Conversations,” 98.13-14.

135 citing their lowliness in the hierarchy, the emperor might have much reason to hope that such condemnations could be a workable solution to growing schism of his age. He was perhaps assured of the usefulness of this approach, for so much of the conference had emphasized that the orthodox not only held in common the right fathers, but rejected together the right heretics. In this context one might justly hope that closer relations between the Chalcedonians and Severans could be achieved by the rejection of a common out-group of 'Nestorianizing' writers.

Given the promise of this meeting's results, it is worth reflecting a moment on an element essential to it. A meeting such as this cannot have occurred with even as much practical success as it had without the curated environment in which it occurred. In our previous chapters we saw Justinian pulled to and fro as he attempted to create unity within a context of competing networks over which he had no direct control. His difficulties did not reflect a poorly conceived or uncertain approach so much as the difficult conditions under which he had to operate. Now we have an emperor working to create a more direct and effective response to the pressing need for unity within the empire. To this end, he begins to draw opposing groups into a space he controls. He uses propinquity to encourage dialogue and dialogue to generate solutions. By bringing others into this space, he places himself at the center not only in the formal sense he occupies as emperor but also in the networked sense of creating and maintaining his own centrality between competing factions. Bringing possible problems closer, where they can be monitored, addressed, and controlled, will play an increasingly important role in

Justinian's approach to religious unity over the coming years. Even so, propinquity cuts

136 both ways, and both the Severans and Chalcedonians at the Colloquium were actors in their own rights who constantly attempted to maneuver into more influential positions.

Access

From the beginning of the Colloquium to its end, the question of access and the influence that comes with it underlies the discussions. The subjects ostensibly under discussion are not the most pressing issue. This is evident from a few points. The first, which we examined earlier, is the ease with which parties were willing to pass over many potential causes of disagreement. Holding a 'moderate opinion' of one's opponent's position does not indicate an overwhelming desire to engage with anything controversial in that position. But the second reason to see a more dominant issue than what was on the docket we have reserved until now. Both texts place an enormous emphasis on access to the emperor. Indeed, this question is key to understanding both the approach of the

Severan party and the interests of the Chalcedonians. But the emperor himself was careful to control that access for reasons that will become apparent.

That the emperor was in fact in control of the proceedings is certain.

Paradoxically, his control came precisely from not being in the room during the discussions.

After this the order (came) for the two parties to assemble in the hall known as Beth Hormisdas, which is today joined to the Palace. There the discussion was to take place in the presence of the synkelloi of the holder of the (patriarchal) throne of the capital, seeing that he himself did not come. Strategius the patrician was allocated to listen to the discussion and report on developments to the emperor; he took the place of the Magistros.269

Strategius was an important selection, because he himself represented the possibility of

269 Brock, “Conversations,” 92.3.

137 reunion (if only through a conditional acceptance of Chalcedon) since he had come over from the opposing side.270

Of course Justinian's control did not only come in the form of having his own man oversee the discussions. He could certainly have been present, but this would not serve all of his goals. Were he present, one could hardly expect serious discussion to occur and accordingly focus would not be on narrowing down problems and finding possible solutions. Instead, focus would have been on swaying him, for persuading the emperor would have been the greatest coup possible. Thus, in those few early instances where the

Severans were granted a meeting with the emperor, he chose to defer any discussion of the statements of faith they wished to present.

Along with it he also gave the statement (plerophoria) which the bishops made after they went up to the capital. And the bishops were urging that those documents (chartai) be read in the presence of him (sc. Justinian) and the (state) officials who were there. But the emperor put off the matter, saying: 'I will read them when I have the time'.271

Thus, Justinian was able to control the discussion by controlling access to his own person, while at the same time maintaining the possibility of access as an enticement to continue in the discussions.

It should not be thought, however, that the emperor was merely ignoring the

Severan documents. Controlling information is, as we have seen, an important form of influence and one Justinian was sure to use. While he may indicate he did not have the time to read the documents, Justinian was certain to make use of them.

After a certain number of days there arrived at the capital the bishops from the opposing faction who had been summoned by the emperor; their names are as

270 ACO 4.2 170.8. 271 .Brock, “Conversations,” 92.1.

138 follows: Hypatius of Ephesus, Stephan of Isaurian Seleucia, Innocentius of Amurnia, John of Bizue -- these (two) towns are in Thrace -- and Anthimus of Trebizond. The emperor sent them the document of the statement which the orthodox bishops had given him; he also sent it to the holder of the see of the capital. (His intention was) that they should read and examine it minutely and prepare themselves for discussion.272

It is hardly any wonder that the Severans should be so intent upon having access to the emperor. As noted above, the possibility of persuading the emperor would have been the greatest enticement. This motivation for the Severans is as clear in Innocentius' account as it is throughout the Severan account.

Orientales dixerunt: "Nos satisfactionis chartulam de fide nostra conpositam piissimo imperatori porreximus et in ea omnia quae nobis ambigua uidebantur et scandalizabant nos, intexuimus.”273

Neither is it unreasonable for the Severans to have hoped for a change in their fortunes. It had been scarcely more than two decades since the Chalcedonians had received reliable imperial patronage and the very invitation to the capital would seem to indicate a friendly overture.

The fact of the matter, however, is that the Chalcedonians already had access to the emperor, and they clearly wishes to maintain it. Access was in part preserved by reference to procedure.

The next day they gathered again, and first of all the orthodox bishops asked that what was said might be taken down in writing, just as they had asked the previous day, without success. The opposing bishops did not accept this, not [sic] did the locum tenens for the Magistros, saying: 'I did not receive any such authorization from the emperor'.274

Despite this fact, access remained important enough for the petitions to continue.

272 Brock, “Conversations,” 92.2. 273 ACO 4.2 170.9. 274 Brock, “Conversations,” 96.11.

139 Eventually the Chalcedonians would relent on the question of briefing the emperor.

The orthodox bishops asked that the emperor should not learn of the conversations from one of the sides (only), as had happened the previous day, but that this should take place with both sides present. They promised (that this should be so). Thereupon the session was dissolved.275

As we saw above, the emperor would hold an audience with the Severans, but only after some possible solutions to the outstanding problems were proposed.

It is within this context that we find one further advantage Justinian attains from propinquity. Access to these few Severans raises the possibility of access to other in their network. The Severan party refused to make an attempt to persuade others to a policy of accepting Chalcedon while condemning the Three Chapters, citing their lowly position.

Even so, the emperor could not pass up the chance to use them as a means of getting to more influential people.

The emperor then said: 'Either bring Severus to suggest some means for the peace of the churches, or suggest one yourselves'. They said: 'We do not know where the holy Severus is'.276

In the long run, Justinian's attempts to get direct access to Severus would succeed. Of course, this success would be attributed—and often still is—to Theodora's patronage of the Severans. The effects are the same, however, and one can hardly miss the fact that what was supposedly Theodora's patronage would achieve precisely the aim Justinian had here and demonstrates in his frequent invitations to Severus.

One might justly conclude from the Colloquium of 532 that bringing the

Chalcedonians and Severans together in the capital under imperial patronage might have a reasonable chance of achieving what neither dictate nor persecution had. After civil,

275 Ibid., 106.33. 276 Ibid., 115.4.

140 and therefore at least minimally successful discussion, a proposal was on the table. This was followed in short order by the arrival of Severus and his allies in the capital. But propinquity is not without its risks, especially if other parties grow suspicious, as we find in Pseudo-Zachariah.

After some time, in [indiction year] thirteen, after many letters from the emperor had reached him, even the holy Severus was received in the palace. He stayed until [the month of] March in [indiction year] fourteen, while the Dyophysite bishops in every place were disturbed, murmuring, and annoyed, especially Ephraem of Antioch, until in their anxiety they informed Agapetus, the head of the priests of Rome, who was of their opinion, and summoned [him] and brought him to the imperial city.277

Thus the very closeness whereby the emperor might hope to facilitate understanding carried with it the cause of its own demise. But before we arrive at that demise, we must turn to the period when cooperation seemed most hopeful.

Severans at the Court

As we have seen, the early 530's are marked by a clear policy of rapprochement, wherein the emperor sought unity between Chalcedonians and anti-Chalcedonians. The emperor would achieve this unity through encouraging cooperation among the competing parties. We will see the great promise of this approach, as for several years it seemed to offer a productive means of ending the rift within the church over Chalcedon, especially in the wake of the Colloquium of 532. Unfortunately, from the perspective of unity, closeness among parties is accompanied by hazards all its own. As we shall see, the promise of this approach ended in a rapid succession of events which see the final collapse of cooperation and require a new approach be formulated.

277 PZ, 9.15.k.

141 The first thing to understand about the growing rapprochement of the early 530's is that it was the product of conscious imperial policy. A few details make this clear. First,

Justinian began his reign with a comprehensive law against heretics. Yet this law, as broad and general as it is, is as significant for what it leaves out as what it includes. One expects the standard affirmation of the Trinitarian, Catholic faith with which the document begins. When the emperor defines those heresies which shall be subject to censure, he is selective. The only three heresies explicitly mentioned are those of

Nestorius, Eutyches, and Apollinaris.278 These three present a neat package for a sixth- century heresiology, defining between themselves the bounds of orthodoxy. Nestorius is rejected as a man-worshipper, Eutyches as an insane creator of fantasies, and Apollinaris as a -murderer. Within these bounds, however, is room enough for both

Chalcedonians and anti-Chalcedonians. As we saw at the Colloquium of 532, many anti-

Chalcedonians were perfectly willing to count Eutyches among the heretics. Indeed,

278 “Since these things are so, We anathematize every heresy and especially Nestorius, the worshipper of man, who divides in two Our One Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God and Our God, and denies that the Holy, Glorious, Ever- Virgin Mary was really and in truth the Mother of God, but claims that one person is God the Word, begotten of the Father, and another is the one born of the Holy, Ever-Virgin Mary, made God by the grace and affection of God the Word. And We further anathematize Eutyches the deranged, who introduces an apparition and denies the true incarnation, that is our salvation, through Mary the Holy, Ever-Virgin Mother of God; and who does not confess that Christ is consubstantial with the Father in all regards according to his divine nature and consubstantial with us according to his human nature. Likewise, (We anathematize) Apollinarius the destroyer of , who claims that Our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God and Our God, did not have a mind, and who introduces confusion or rather chaos to the incarnation of the Only Begotten Son of God; and (We anathematize) all who have followed and now follow the of these men.” Bruce W. Frier, ed. The Codex of Justinian: A New Annotated Translation with Parallel Latin and Greek Text Based on a Translation by Justice Fred H. Blume (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 1.1.5.3.

142 Severus himself would reject Nestorius as insane, Apollinaris as stupid, and Eutyches as a creator of fantasies within the same .279 To be sure, the emperor certainly wishes to exclude from the church any current adherents of these heresies, but this is only part of his object. The emperor is writing in a manner which can be affirmed equally by

Chalcedonian and anti-Chalcedonian alike. He doesn't breath a word here about

Dioscorus or Chalcedon. An edict with which Justinian begins his sole reign is aimed at the possibility of rapprochement. It creates boundaries into which the anti-Chalcedonians could comfortably fit. A subsequent relaxation of persecution, to which we will now turn, only advances this same agenda.

The Relaxation of Persecution

Although one should not regard the policy of rapprochement as some sudden and jarring shift in policy, it is important to emphasize that it was, in fact, a conscious and consistent policy pursued by the court and particularly by the emperor himself. Following

Frend, a key feature of Justinian's approach to the anti-Chalcedonians around 530 was an end to their persecution at imperial hands. Frend dates this somewhere in 530-531.

Elias' Life of John of Tella, written sometime after 542, claims that the success of John's mission persuaded Justinian to summon him together with eight other bishops to the capital for discussion concerning their differences over Chalcedon. This would seem to be one of the main factors in Justinian's sudden relaxation in 530 or 531 and the restoration of the scattered communities of monks to their monasteries, but not the bishops to their sees. The war with Persia also required

279 Concerning Eutyches, he says: “But since they do not tolerate the lowliness (of the incarnate Lord) thus expressed, they run towards and take refuge in the illusions which the filthy Eutyches received and inherited as a paternal heirloom. For they say rather that he appeared in fantasy only […]” , Pauline Allen and C.T.R. Hayward trans. (New York: Routledge, 2004), Homily 15.11. Concerning Apollinaris and Nestorius, see ibid., Homily 15.14-15.

143 urgent concessions to popular feeling in the frontier area, even though the return of the monks immediately caused a decline in the number of Chalcedonians. Behind this move, however, was in all probability Theodora, even at this stage regarded with suspicion and loathing by Chalcedonians who visited the capital.280

We must be careful, however, to avoid overstating the degree of change which this apparent relaxation of persecution really represented. A later source, like Michael the

Syrian, will speak about both the persecution of the anti-Chalcedonians and its abatement early in Justinian's reign in rather sweeping terms.281 Yet it is difficult to construct from earlier sources any sense that large scale persecution of anti-Chalcedonians was a priority on the imperial level. Certainly, ranking anti-Chalcedonians were removed from their sees and would not be restored, and monks were removed from their monasteries only to be restored. In the case of bishops, the question was often the refusal to sign the papal libellus following the resolution of the Acacian Schism.282 We must weigh such actions against the letters of Justin and Justinian seen above which make every practicable effort to resist papal demands in regards to the libellus and especially the diptychs. This persecution is best described as reluctant. The examples of general persecution we find are often tied more closely to more local affairs and the actions of a given patriarch than

280 Frend, 261-62. 281 Thus we find in , Chronique de Michel le Syrien, Patriarche Jacobite d'Antioche (1166-1199), ed. and trans. by J.-B. Chabot. 4 volumes (Paris, 1899-1924), 9.21: “Ensuite, il vit les maux causés par ceux qui, du temps de son oncle, s'étaient emparés des églises, avaient fait de l'Église une maison de négoce, et avaient excité la persécution contre les églises sous prétexte de religion, en forgeant des accusations contre(les fidèles), en ravissant et pillant leus biens ; et qui tous, grands et petits, marchaient à leur guise. Justinianus comprit tout cela, et il ordonna que la persécution cessât, et que les persécutés revinssent à leurs demeures. Beaucoup revinrent, à l'exception des évêques qui ne rentrèrent pas dans leurs sièges.” 282 See Menze, 107 et seq.

144 to Constantinopolitan direction. Thus, when John of Ephesus describes the return of the monks of to their monasteries, he is not quick to blame the emperors but he does dub Ephraim of Antioch with the appellation 'the Persecutor’ (ܐܐܐܐܐ ܐܐܐܐܐ).283 In other words, we ought not think about the persecution of the anti-Chalcedonians in terms we might apply to the treatment of the in the sixth century, the Manichaeans, or even Christians under Diocletian. Nevertheless, it is clear from the sources that the anti-Chalcedonians greeted Justinian’s—and of course Theodora’s—forbearance and invitations with some relief.

Guests of the Emperor and His Consort

From Justinian's accession through the early 530's the population of anti-

Chalcedonian exiles in Constantinople becomes quite large, numbering easily in the hundreds.284 Improving the relationship between the Chalcedonian court and anti-

Chalcedonians was, as discussed above, a conscious policy on the part of the emperor.

Patronizing the anti-Chalcedonian exiles, offering them protection at the Palace of

Hormisdas, would potentially have done much to encourage a productive relationship.

Besides such encouragement, a potential threat who is kept close is easier to control.

Therefore, inviting the anti-Chalcedonians to court would fit neatly within the emperor's overall scheme. But one cannot discuss the reasons for the exiles' presence at court without acknowledging the somewhat mixed account of the matter we find in the sources.

The empress Theodora acts as a convenient explanatory apparatus for many of the

283 John of Ephesus, Lives of the Eastern Saints, ed. and trans. E.W. Brooks, PO 18 (1924), 620-21. 284 Menze, 108-9.

145 ecclesiastical questions in this period, including the question of why the emperor would allow so many anti-Chalcedonians a relatively peaceful exile so near the center of imperial power. Any who have read anti-Chalcedonian sources which mention her will quickly notice their high opinion of her. But it is important to understand that these passages represent a later construction of Theodora by anti-Chalcedonians who remembered her as a patroness.285 The treatment of Theodora as an anti-Chalcedonian influence in the court can cause us to miss what the court was actually doing.

Since it is generally presumed that she was an ardent non-Chalcedonian, some scholars believe that an actual opposition between her and her husband existed. Concerning Anthimus' installation in Constantinople and Theodosius' in Alexandria William Frend believed—like Eduard Schwartz before him—that the ‘years 535–6 were to test the reality of the empress' powers to dominate the religious situation in the empire’, and the ‘coup’ to install Anthimus ‘marks the highwater-mark of her influence’. Although scholars still maintain the religious division of the imperial couple, they prefer now to see in it clever policy rather than real opposition. In the words of J. A. S. Evans: ‘As long as the Monophysites had a friend in court, they continued to owe their allegiance to the empire.’58 Foss' statement that ‘it suited him [Justinian] to find an unofficial way to placate the followers of a religion that was dominant in his richest provinces’ goes in the same direction. It can hardly be doubted that having Theodora as protector of the non-Chalcedonians was a convenient arrangement for a Chalcedonian emperor.286

Fortunately the sources themselves offer support to this latter view. There is, of course, the famous passage from Procopius’s Anecdota, part of which is granted a degree of plausibility due to how neatly it coincides with the behavior of the imperial couple.

But now we must sketch the outlines of what she and her husband did in unison, for neither did anything apart from the other to the end of their joint lives. For a long time it was universally believed that they were exact opposites in their ideas and interests, but later it was recognized that this false impression had been deliberately fostered to make sure that their subjects did not put their own differences aside and rebel against them, but all divided in their feelings about them. They began by creating a division between the Christians, and by

285 Menze, 227-235, argues this point forcefully. 286 Menze, 209-10.

146 pretending to take opposite sides in religious disputes they split the whole body in two [...]287

Of course, the object Procopius here presents for Justinian and Theodora’s behavior is to maintain the divisions among the people. Such an interpretation of events is typical of the

Anecdota, and even if we accept that the two collaborated, with each presenting as a friend and patron of either Chalcedonian or anti-Chalcedonian, we need not accept the negative spin Procopius places upon it. Patronage for each group, rather than being to keep them divided, might just as well be to retain the support of each in hopes of attaining eventual union. Such, at any rate, fits better with the efforts we have already seen from Justinian to achieve such unity. This contention is also supported by Evagrius

Scholasticus, who claims the following:

Now, whereas Justinian most resolutely supported those who had gathered at Chalcedon and what had been expounded by them, his consort Theodora upheld those who speak of one nature, whether because they did in truth hold these views – for when there is a proposal to discuss the faith, fathers are at odds with children, and children in turn with those who begat them, a wife with her own spouse and in turn again a husband with his own spouse – or because they had reached some sort of accommodation, so that he would support those who speak of two natures in Christ our God whereas she would do the same for those who advocate one nature. At any rate, then, neither made any concession to the other: but he most enthusiastically upheld what had been agreed at Chalcedon, while she sided with those on the opposite side and made every provision for those who speak of one nature; she both looked after local people and welcomed outsiders with considerable sums of money. She also persuaded Justinian to have Severus summoned.288

Much of what we have seen thus far supports the contention that the emperor both needed and wanted to act through personal connections to effect his ecclesiastical policy.

The collaboration with Theodora not only fits this contention, but may even be

287 Procopius, The Secret History, trans. by G. A. Williamson (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1966), 10.13-15. 288 EH, 4.10.

147 paradigmatic of it. By offering the anti-Chalcedonians a friendly patron, but one over whom he had decisive influence, Justinian could hope to make the court a more inviting place for them. Perhaps he might even stave off the risk of the anti-Chalcedonians creating a separate church, if they retain the hope of influence at court through the person of Theodora. Thus Menze asserts as well:

Part of [Justinian’s policy] included the transfer of the non-Chalcedonian problem to Constantinople. Since Justinian had not been able to persuade Severus to come to the debate in 532/3, he needed to him and other non-Chalcedonians who potentially might come to Constantinople that he would not harm them, but respect their persuasion. It seems that Theodora would be the logical person who could assist him in this. As Evans puts it: ‘it was an advantage for an autocrat to have a secondary power center in the state so long as it was firmly in the hands of a loyal wife’.289

There is a still more positive argument to be made as well. The notion that

Theodora was chiefly behind drawing anti-Chalcedonians to the court does not account for Justinian's own actions. According to Pseudo-Zachariah's account, Severus himself had “been summoned urgently by the emperor,” and although he credits Theodora for predisposing Justinian to accept Severus, he still has Severus “received lovingly in the palace by the emperor”.290 Further evidence of the emperor's interest in this approach is provided by an earlier letter of Severus, also preserved by Pseudo-Zachariah, in which

Severus rejects Justinian's invitation on the grounds of his age and health. Justinian's original invitation is lost to us, but we can surmise from Severus's reply that it at least included assurances for Severus and was likely friendly in tone: “And the great proof of your gentleness is that you wrote without reluctance in your letter [addressed] to me with

289 Menze, 216-17. 290 PZ, 9.19.a.

148 oaths, promising me no harm.”291 It is of course within the realm of possibility that

Justinian was pressured by his consort into making such moves. But the consistency of

Justinian's efforts in this regard, the fact that he both knew for years about the anti-

Chalcedonian exiles’ presence in Constantinople and he took positive steps to invite them, makes the conscious collaboration between Justinian and Theodora indicated in

Procopius and Evagrius Scholasticus seem overwhelmingly likely.

There are two further reasons to treat the presence of the exiles as a matter of conscious policy, although they would not stand on their own. First, the approach did, in fact, show some signs of success. One recalls the Colloquium of 532 discussed above which was greatly facilitated by the presence of the exiles. The interaction between the two groups demonstrated that cooperation was still feasible and that in itself is a victory, however minor it might be. Second, it makes sense from an administrative viewpoint.

With the anti-Chalcedonian exiles present in Constantinople, the emperor might hope to keep a closer eye on them and perhaps even exert greater influence over them. Severus's ability to encourage the faithful while exiled in Egypt shows clearly the problems with the alternative. Nevertheless, concentrating leaders among the anti-Chalcedonians in

Constantinople was not without risks, as we shall soon see.

Anthimus's conversion to the anti-Chalcedonian position is announced to us in a series of letters involving him, Severus, and Theodosius as recorded in Pseudo-

Zachariah.292 A mythos later grows around these as the 'Three Patriarchs'. The letters themselves are interesting, if as nothing more than an anti-Chalcedonian artifact. I say

291 PZ, 9.16.b. 292 PZ, 9.21-26.

149 this not merely in the sense that they were written by anti-Chalcedonians, but that they were in fact fabricated thereby. Reading them, with Anthimus's unequivocal condemnation of Chalcedon and “the wicked Tome of Leo”,293 one gets the sense that this is what an anti-Chalcedonian would think one of the Three Patriarchs should say. Of course, what one of the Three Patriarchs should say is distinct from what a patriarch elected under the watchful eye of Justinian would say. Thus Price holds the following:

The text of the letters, transmitted in non-Chalcedonian sources, goes further, and attributes to Anthimus an explicit anathematization of Chalcedon and its teaching. This is not credible: when he was subsequently deposed, it was on the ground that he had only pretended to follow Chalcedon, while in fact 'supposing it necessary to give the same and equal treatment to those condemned [the heretics] and those who had condemned them'. The charge is not that he had himself rejected the council, which would have contributed nothing to what was surely his goal – the reconciliation of the non-Chalcedonians to the imperial Church.294

Although the concrete details of Anthimus's growing relationship with Severus and Theodosius are likely lost to us, the fact that they were seen as related is certainly not. Such closeness would have been necessary for any further steps toward unity between the Chalcedonian and anti-Chalcedonian factions and therefore it would have been encouraged by the emperor. It is precisely to this closeness that many Chalcedonians reacted.

After some time, in [indiction year] thirteen, after many letters from the emperor had reached him, even the holy Severus was received in the palace. He stayed until [the month of] March in [indiction year] fourteen, while the Dyophysite bishops in every place were disturbed, murmuring, and annoyed, especially Ephraem of Antioch, until in their anxiety they informed Agapetus, the head of the priests of Rome, who was of their opinion, and summoned [him] and brought him to the imperial city.295

293 PZ, 9.21.b. 294 Price (2009), I.13. 295 PZ, 9.15.k.

150 Anthimus's election and his close relationship with Severus was in keeping with all

Justinian had been working toward for the past half-decade. But it also proved to be a watershed moment. The kind of cooperation which occurred up to this point was possible because it did not directly threaten group boundaries. But the appointment of Anthimus by the Chalcedonian emperor, and the appearance of his move toward the anti-

Chalcedonian camp, threatened to undermine the stability of the Chalcedonian position.

This resulted in a reaction, wherein the Chalcedonians moved to eliminate the threat, and sought to shore up the boundaries between Chalcedonian and anti-Chalcedonian. It was the very effort toward unity which, ultimately, would result in deeper division.296

The Arrival of Agapetus

The underlying and preexistent tensions between Chalcedonians and anti-

Chalcedonians along with the competing interests of individual actors likely made a collapse of cooperation inevitable, at least so long as no acts of reciprocal altruism were forthcoming which could hope to mend the divide. With hindsight, any hope for reunion seems just a fool's hope, inasmuch a large number from both groups acted as though an admission of guilt from their opponent was a sine qua non for unity. While this background is surely the distal cause for the collapse in Chalcedonian/anti-Chalcedonian

296 Thus, Menze, 206: “It is ironic how a situation which possibly could have brought Justinian a tremendous victory actually produced such a serious defeat. The emperor had worked for a policy of rapprochement for years, and even though a unity of the church had not yet been in the air, he had gained control over the disunity and could hope to achieve even more with a loyal patriarch in the capital. An unforeseeable incident, the fact that the Ostrogoth king believed the pope to be the best ambassador, and a minor mistake, Anthimus' uncanonical election, in combination caused Justinian's vision to collapse. The papacy resolutely stopped the emperor's policy of rapprochement.”

151 cooperation that occurred in 536, the proximate cause could not be clearer. It came about in March, 536, with the arrival of pope Agapetus.

We saw above how the close environment of the court facilitated understanding and cooperation among the several parties present. Had this circumstance continued, one might have hoped at the time to build a trusting relationship between the imperial couple, the patriarch of Constantinople, and the exiles at court. In such an environment, one could speculate, an agreeable solution to the impasse over Chalcedon emerged. Such a solution would need to affirm the orthodoxy of the imperial church, even while it retained its Chalcedonian confession. Equally, it would need to assure the anti-Chalcedonians that the imperial church would be anti-Nestorian enough to satisfy their concerns. Above all, it could not demand the erasure of the anti-Chalcedonian past through a purge of the diptychs. For both sides to maintain their status and dignity, both sides would have to be able to continue to recognize their own heroes. At least in the abstract, the Joint

Commission for the Dialogue between Eastern Orthodox and Oriental Orthodox

Churches proved in the twentieth century that a respectful consensus which does not delegitimate either side is possible. If he had such a consensus in hand, and with all the major players in the East at hand, the emperor might have reasonably hoped to present the solution to the bishop of Rome as a fait accompli, much as he had with the theopaschite edict. Such an endgame might take time, but all the pieces were in the right places to make it happen. At least they were, until one piece moved.

Around the turn of the year, the Gothic king Theodahad persuaded pope Agapetus to go to Constantinople on an embassy on his behalf. This embassy did not succeed in

152 preventing the Gothic Wars, indeed preparations for a conflict in Italy must be borne in mind if we are to appreciate every aspect of Justinian's reaction to Agapetus's arrival and his swift acquiescence in the days that followed. Whatever his casus belli, imperial activity in Italy would lose some legitimacy if the emperor or his patriarch were declared a heretic by the bishop of Rome.

Both the Liber Pontificalis and Pseudo-Zachariah inform us that the pope was received with great pomp.297 His arrival would certainly have upset the balance at court in any event. But matters were made worse for the court because Agapetus came primed for the meeting. As indicated above, it would have been in the court's interest to present an already agreed upon means of reunion to the West. Accepting the emperor's will in this matter might be easier if it entailed a formal and completed agreement to Chalcedon by the anti-Chalcedonians. But when Agapetus arrived, the court was still in the process of building the kind of trust necessary to effect such an agreement. Agapetus's interpretation of the situation was also necessarily colored by the contacts he had received from

Chalcedonian monks and bishops of Palestine and Syria.298 The monks had sent a libellus to complain chiefly about the canonicity of Anthimus's election, the primary charge which would be used against him.299 The monks show they know their audience well,

297 See Raymond Davis, trans. The Book of Pontiffs (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1989), 54-55; PZ, 9.19. Of course, one should not make too much of these statements. In the same chapter, Ps. Zach. us that Severus was well received, as was Sabas in Cyril of Scythopolis. It is perfectly natural for an author to highlight the importance of his subject by saying that he was important to the emperor. Besides, it was worth the emperor's while to impress his influential guests. Impressive reception was and remains a key function of the ceremonies which surround the powerful. 298 ACO 3.136-52. 299 The formal issue was Anthimus's transfer from Trebizond to Constantinople and the consequent violation of Canon 15 of Nicaea.

153 however, as they close their libellus warning about the threat posed by Severus, Peter and

Zooras to Chalcedon and, of course, the Tome of Leo.300 Although it saves its chief complaints against Anthimus until the very end, the episcopal libellus to Agapetus offers largely the same warnings about the threat to Chalcedon and the Tome.301 Agapetus would therefore be ready to see Anthimus as a threat and he would have at hand the arguments necessary to eliminate the threat.

The specific sequence of events upon Agapetus's arrival cannot be reconstructed with certainty. Pseudo-Zachariah implies the displeasure of God, signified by earthquakes and darkness, upon Agapetus's arrival, accuses the pope of heresy, and then offers the following:

He abstained from communion with Anthimus and Severus, and they even more from [communion with] him. One of them he called an adulterer and the other a Eutychian, and he changed the love of the emperor towards them and set him against them in a disputation, and [Justinian] drove them out from the city.302

Liberatus gives a few more details, but still dispenses with the whole affair of Agapetus,

Severus, and the Council of 536 in a handful of lines.

But the pope, having received an embassy for the same cause, departed for Constantinople. And truly at first receiving honorably those arranged for him by the emperor, nevertheless he spurned the presence of Anthimus, and he was unwilling to receive him in order to greet him. Then, the emperor having seen, he was pleading the case of the embassy undertaken. But the emperor, unwilling to divert the planned army from Italy on account of the great cost to the imperial exchequer, refused to hear the supplications of the pope. But he, because he was himself, performed * the embassy of Christ. Finally, with the princely entreaties that the pope should receive Anthimus in greeting and communion, he said it could be done if he proved himself orthodox with the libellus and he returned to his own cathedra. He was saying that it was impossible for the man transferred to that seat to remain. Indeed, with the Augusta secretly promising many gifts and

300 ACO 3.141.25-28. 301 Vide e.g. ACO 3.148. 302 PZ, 9.19.

154 threatening the pope on the other hand, the pope endured in this, lest he obey the entreaty. Indeed Anthimus, seeing himself driven from his seat, returned the which he had to the emperors and withdrew where the Augusta might protect him by her own patronage.303

Evagrius Scholasticus is just as brief in his presentation of Anthimus's deposition, but in contrast he does not even include the role of Agapetus.304 A final narrative of events also appears in Marcellinus Comes, but his account of the whole affair is characteristically sparse.305

These few details leave us with two interesting points. First, Agapetus was predisposed to view Anthimus with suspicion by those peripheral to the circles around the court itself. Thus, again, the court's ability to control circumstances, even the circumstances in its immediate vicinity, was constrained by information flow through broader networks which crossed the empire. Second, it is likely Agapetus viewed the closeness of Anthimus to the anti-Chalcedonians as an immediate threat in its own right, evidenced by how quickly he seems to have dealt with it. It is true that the Liber

Pontificalis offers readers a showdown between the pope and the patriarch in the presence of a hitherto naive emperor.306 But even if we accept this narrative, events seem

303 ACO 2.5, 135-136. 304 EH, 4.11 305 “XIII. Belisarii solius […] 4 Epifanius episcopus regiae urbis ante aduentum Romani praesulis moritur ; cuius episcopatum contra canones Anthimus Trapezuntena ecclesia relicta inuadit. […] (536) XIIII. post consulatum Belisarii […] 10 Constantinopolim, ut diximus, episcopus a Roma adueniens, Anthimum pellit, dicens eum iuxta ecclesiasticam regulam adulterum, qui sua dimissa ambierat alienam ; in cuius locum Mennam presbyterum episcopum ordinauit et ipse extremum diem obiit, in nullo tamen, sicut ei a principe imminebatur, sentiens contra fidem.” Marcellinus Comes, a. 535-536. 306 The Book of the Pontiffs, Davis trans., 54-55. The encounters seems about as likely as Pseudo-Zachariah's scurrilous claim that Agapetus would not refer to the Blessed Virgin Mary as Theotokos. (PZ, 9. 19) Its purpose seems to have

155 to have proceeded with an urgent speed. This was not a time for discussion between

Agapetus and Anthimus; it was time for an ultimatum.

With Agapetus's arrival and his swift reaction to circumstances at court, Justinian was put to a decision. Moving forward with either party would require a clear break with the other. Favoring continued rapprochement with Severus and the exiles would almost certainly lead to a papal against a sitting patriarch of Constantinople, an Acacian Schism redivivus. Favoring Agapetus, however, meant nothing short of washing his hands entirely of Severus, Peter, Zooras, and Anthimus, of whom Agapetus had been warned. Only this would satisfy the pope, who would suspect any lesser action as waffling or even prevarication. With military affairs proceeding apace in Italy and no certain, tested, and agreed-upon solution to the making peace with the anti-Chalcedonians in the East, Justinian made the only real decision left to him. He favored the bird in his hand rather than the ones that might be in the bush.

The Council of 536

The Council of 536, as we shall see, shows just how consistent Justinian could be in his determination to effect detente with the anti-Chalcedonians. In the midst of what was, on the face of it, a great setback to his policy, the emperor solidified the very connections which would prove useful in beginning the next attempt at detente and at the same time guarded the court against a potential threat of schism with the West.

been to elevate the heroic importance of Agapetus in his opposition to the heretics. No such meeting is mentioned in Pseudo-Zachariah, or any other narrative, and it is positively disallowed in Liberatus's account quoted above. Besides, the notes of the Council of 536 support Agapetus's refusal to meet with Anthimus. See ACO 3.132.

156 Circumstances required certain individuals to be sacrificed. But, judging from the court's actions, an end to working with those individuals did not entail an end to efforts to bring the anti-Chalcedonians back into the fold. The court would emerge from the council with renewed determination to resolve the matter entirely, but it could only do so on account of how the council was carried out and the matters on which the council focused.

Before we turn to the council itself, we must observe a couple of important facts about what preceded it. First, Agapetus had Anthimus's resignation in hand before the council. Agapetus had also personally consecrated Menas as Anthimus's successor.307 A council was not necessary for Agapetus to achieve these goals. Second, Agapetus died suddenly before the council occurred.308 The council would still occur, but the practical upshot of Agapetus's death is that the court could more freely control what would happen without fear of creating undue tension with the West.

This latter fact permeates much of the council's proceedings. From the outset, the council was focused on what amounts to a procedural question. The archbishop Menas, who chaired the council, would direct his attention to the question of the canonicity of

Anthimus's election.309 It is hard to doubt that the court would have known from the start that transferring Anthimus to Constantinople from Trebizond was in violation of Canon

15 of Nicaea, but it is exceedingly unlikely that anyone should have complained about this point of order were there no other reason to be rid of him. This question has the dual

307 “Anthimus uero uidens se sede pulsum pallium quem habuit, imperatoribus reddidit et discessit ubi eum augusta suo patrocinio pueretur. tunc papa cum principis fauore Menatem pro eo ordinauit pontificem, consecrans eum manu sua in sanctae Mariae.” ACO 2.5, 136. 308 PZ, 9.19 rather unsurprisingly gives Agapetus a rather grusome death, the sort one expects heretics to suffer in our sources. 309 ACO 3.132-3.

157 advantages of justifying Anthimus's removal while not focusing as much on implicating a recent patriarch of Constantinople in potential heresy. It also does nothing to endanger future attempts to work with the anti-Chalcedonians.

The matter of condemning Severus, Peter, and Zooras was a bit more delicate in this regard. The council had to ratify the move against these men brought on by

Agapetus's arrival, but it had to do so in such a way that it would not sabotage later efforts toward bringing the anti-Chalcedonians back into the fold. This explains the focus of the notes on the persons of Severus, Peter, Zooras and, by extension, Anthimus. After the first session, with its various libelli written in protest of these, the second is directly focused on locating Anthimus himself.310 Because Anthimus failed to show up despite being given three days to do so, the same question dominates the third session, with an extended discussion of Anthimus's last known whereabouts.311 Although a sentence is passed in absentia,312 the fourth session is also concerned with seeking out Anthimus himself with all agreeing that he had not been seen for days.313 Outside the various quoted libelli which accuse Anthimus, Severus, Peter and Zooras, it is no exaggeration to say the chief business of the Council of 536, as it is recorded in the acts, consisted of attempting to find Anthimus and to rubber-stamp the desired condemnation.

This contrasts somewhat with the claim which occurs at the beginning of the acts.

The first document introduced to the council is a monastical libellus which declares that the good work of the council was to scatter (διακεδάσαι) Anthimus, Peter, Severus, and

310 ACO 3.160.23 311 ACO 3.168 312 ACO 3.168-9 313 ACO 3.175-6

158 Zooras.314 In other words, the job of the council was to split apart a set of close connections which had formed at the court. The council left little doubt that these men would be rejected as heretics, but this fact would seem at first to put Justinian's ultimate aim of detente with the anti-Chalcedonians at great risk. At this point, it is important to recall a key statement by Menas in the fourth session of the council: “without the emperor's will and command nothing could happen in a matter touching ecclesiastical affairs.”315 If the council would scatter these men, it would do so because the emperor desired as much.

Although a rejection of Anthimus, Severus, Peter, and Zooras might alienate some anti-Chalcedonians, the court, as we have already seen, had little choice if it was to maintain a healthy relationship with the West. Once this temporary crisis had passed, the court could return to working with the anti-Chalcedonians. But for now, someone needed to be scattered so the Chalcedonian community could maintain peace. Someone had to be a scapegoat. In this light, the focus on the individual persons makes sense. The more the council focuses on these individuals, the more it might hope to avoid broader questions which could hazard future relations with the anti-Chalcedonians. It is well to remove these individuals, for they cause tumult, they bring another , they snatch up the simple and do not arrive at a knowledge of the truth.316 Anthimus must be condemned for undermining the ecclesiastical canons and laws.317 This, after all, is why God sent

Agapetus from Rome.318

314 ACO 3.131.59 315 ACO 3.181.130; trans. Frend, 272-3. 316 ACO 3.131.59 317 ACO 3.132 318 ACO 3.132.11

159 But when it comes to discussing the actual views of Severus and his companions, the acts are content to lob stereotyped accusations which do little more than endorse a

Chalcedonian status quo.319 The council affirms Chalcedon along with the Tome of Leo, and condemns Eutyches and Nestorius, while rejecting one individual on canonical grounds and a few others because they do not affirm Chalcedon.320 This is the bare- minimum one might do to satisfy the West, and it is therefore exactly what one might expect the emperor would desire if he were planning to continue his efforts toward reconciliation with the anti-Chalcedonians as soon as practicable. Certainly, persecution of anti-Chalcedonians would follow, but the superlative degree of the persecution under

Ephraim, as compared to other areas, only shows the degree to which such persecution could depend upon local conditions.321

It is unsurprising that the next attempt at reconciliation did not follow immediately on the heels of 536. The was in full force and would necessarily have changed the court's priorities. Besides, after the emperor's guests so recently found themselves publicly excoriated, it would be some time before overtures to the anti-

319 One finds, as a representative example of the reasoning employed, the following: “ὅ πρῶτον καὶ μέσον καὶ ὕστατον ἐστι Σεβῆρος ὁ ἀλιτήριος ὁ κατὰ τοῦ θεοῦ λαλήσας ἀδικίαν ἀεί, ποτὲ μὲν τὰ Ἑλλήνων μυστήρια μυηθεὶς καὶ ταῦτα τιμήσας, ποτὲ δὲ τὰ Εὐτυχοῦς διδάξας καὶ Μάνεντος, ἐν ὅλωι δὲ τῶι βίωι τῆι τῶν Χριστιανῶν ὀρθῆι πίστει φράσας ἐρρῶσθαι καὶ τὴν Νεστορίου τοῦ ἀνθρωπολάτρου προσηγορίαν εἰς ἐφόδιον τῆς ἀπάτης τοῖς ἐξ ἁπλότητος πρὸς ὑποδοχὴν ἔχουσιν ἕτοιμα τὰ ὦτα ἐπινοήσας [...]” ACO 3.147.69.34- 148.69.1. 320 The affirmation of Chalcedon and condemnation of Eutyches and the Nestorians are paired frequently in the acts. See, e.g. ACO 3.30-31, 134, and 141. 321 John of Ephesus particularly holds Ephraim responsible for the persecutions. When discussing the matter, however, Menze notes that Pseudo-Zachariah held Ephraim in somewhat higher regard, concluding that John must be read with a grain of salt. (Menze, 110-11)

160 Chalcedonians could be expected to be productive. But the attempts would continue and with this in mind we might even see the Council of 536 as a moment of consolidation.

One might reasonably conclude from the relationship the court had with the next two popes that the emperor learned clearly from 536 about the need to keep as much influence over the papacy as possible. In short order, he would ensure that only approved persons held any of the patriarchal sees. Once the formal unity of the church had been achieved, the emperor would again be able to pursue rapprochement with the anti-

Chalcedonians, but now from a position of strength.

161 Chapter 4: Heretics, Living or Dead

In the wake of 536, one might expect Justinian to abandon his earlier efforts at reconciliation. Indeed, the decade which follows would seem, at first glance, to provide an optimal example of Justinian's erratic approach to religious policy. During this period, we see the sudden condemnation of Origen, a man dead for three centuries, followed shortly by a condemnation of the so-called Three Chapters, consisting of Theodore of

Mopsuestia and his writings, along with certain works by Theodoret of Cyrus and Ibas of

Edessa. The connection between these fifth-century writers and Origen is not immediately obvious, but a rather surprising explanation, which we will review shortly, is offered in our sources. In place of this, and other explanations for the condemnation of

Origen and the Three Chapters which scholars have proposed, this chapter will offer an account consistent with our approach up to this point. We will take into account the social competition among those on whom Justinian relied and the way all these actors attempted to manipulate symbolic and social boundaries to their advantage. With such a context in mind, it will be clear that Justinian's actions were those of a ruler facing shifting circumstances under which he attempted to fulfill consistent policy goals. Let us now turn to some of the earlier explanations which have been offered for the concurrence of condemnations.

The Three Chapters and Origenism in Scholarship

Therefore, if after this orthodox confession which condemns the heretics one separates oneself from the holy Church of God by disputing over names or syllables or phrases rather than preserving pious understanding, then his piety exists in name only and not in deed, for such a one delights in schism. He will render an account of himself and of those whom he has deceived or will deceive

162 to our great God and Savior Jesus Christ at the Day of Judgment.322

Thus Justinian sealed his “Edict on the True Faith” with a stern warning against any who would separate himself from the Church by defying the imperial edict. The edict, issued in 551, was in reality a final effort on the part of the emperor to salvage what had turned out to be a disastrous policy. Therein he attempted to demonstrate the orthodoxy of the

Chalcedonian confession, in part by arguing for the heterodoxy of works from three authors, Theodore of Mopsuestia, Theodoret of Cyrus, and Ibas of Edessa, known to history as the Three Chapters. , then resident in Constantinople, refused to comply with the edict and the emperor was ultimately forced to convene an ecumenical council in order to have his edict confirmed. This was loss for imperial policy in two senses: first, the court showed itself unable to force a confession upon the church without its consent; and, second, the decrees of the council itself did not prevent the sundering of relations among the Chalcedonian and anti-Chalcedonian bishops.

Even so, that the Council managed to preserve some unity among the

Chalcedonian bishops was something of a victory. It was perhaps a partial one, however, since it would take the better part of a century for the council to achieve universal recognition in the West. The condemnation of the Three Chapters, treated by Justinian as an antidote to schism in the East, had instead poisoned relations in the West. We are left to wonder, then, why the court would pursue a policy which, having guarantee of success in the East, risked the gains made under Justin in the West. A standard explanation may be found in J. B. Bury’s History of the Later Roman Empire, although the explanation

322 Justinian, “Edict on the True Faith” in Kenneth P. Wesche, ed. and trans. On the Person of Christ: The Christology of the Emperor Justinian (Crestwood, New York: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1991), 198.

163 itself is older by centuries. Since the explanation had long remained fixed, it will do as well to quote from him as any more recent scholar who says much the same. Bury places the origins of the Three Chapters Controversy within the context of the aftermath of the

Second Origenist Controversy in Palestine.

After the death of St. Sabas (December 5, A.D. 532), the number and influence of the Origenists grew in the monasteries of Palestine. Two of the most prominent, Theodore Ascidas and , visited the capital in A.D. 536 to attend the synod which condemned the Monophysites, and gaining the favour of the Emperor they were appointed to fill the sees, Domitian of Ancyra and Theodore of Caesarea in Cappadocia. Both Pelagius and the Patriarch Menas were anxious to break the influence which Theodore Ascidas, a man of considerable astuteness and not over-scrupulous, exerted over Justinian ; and they eagerly took up the cause of the monks who desired to purge Palestine of the heresy.323

Bury continues:

Pelagius and Menas convinced Justinian that it was imperative to take action, and in A.D. 543 the Emperor issued an edict condemning ten opinions of Origen. It was subscribed by Menas, and the Pope and the other Patriarchs, including Peter of Jerusalem, signed it also. Theodore Ascidas was in a difficult position. To refuse to accept the edict would have cost him his bishopric and influence at court. He sacrificed his opinions and affixed his signature, but he had his revenge by raising a new theological question which was to occupy the stage of ecclesiastical politics for more than ten years. There was no theologian whose writings were more offensive to the Monophysites than Theodore of Mopsuestia, who was esteemed the spiritual father of Nestorianism. He had also written against Origen and was detested by the Origenists. To Theodore Ascidas, who was apparently a secret Monophysite as well as an Origenist, there could hardly be a greater triumph than to procure his condemnation in by the Church.324

Bury proceeds to explain how Theodore Askidas then proceeded to persuade Justinian that the condemnation of Theodore of Mopsuestia, along with suspect works of

Theodoret and Ibas, would demonstrate to the anti-Chalcedonians the Cyrillan orthodoxy of the Chalcedonian position. This explanation has the satisfying quality connecting two

323 Bury, 383. 324 Bury, 383-84.

164 otherwise seemingly disparate controversies, both later addressed at the Fifth Ecumenical

Council. Even so, I have long found this explanation, which I shall term the revenge plot thesis, inadequate. Recently, scholars have begun to question the veracity of this explanation.325 Richard Price, to take one example, rejects it in clear terms.

The claim that the condemnation of the chapters resulted from deception and manipulation by an heretical faction is manifestly tendentious; neither Liberatus nor his sources were in a position to know what Ascidas said to Justinian or how much it influenced him.326

Without this explanation, however, we may be left to wonder whether there was any connection between the two condemnations. Here we will argue instead that the condemnation of the Three Chapters was not a revenge plot of Origenists but that, on the contrary, it is more plausible to suggest the condemnation of Origen provided an opportunity to pursue the court's longer held goal of condemning the Three Chapters.

The Evidence

The evidence from which the revenge plot thesis is constructed is sparse, as is often the case in late-antique history, but is rather straightforward. A brief review of it

325 A prime example of this healthy skepticism is Father John Behr, who points out the following: “It was left to Theodore Askidas to coordinate a response. His influence had grown to such an extent that in Cyril's mind Askidas 'controlled the palace'. [...] This was then followed by the edict issued by Justinian in 544/5 condemning Theodore of Mopsuestia and the other two 'Chapters'. The inclusion of Theodoret and Ibas strongly indicates that it was not simply an act of revenge for the condemnation of Origen instigated by Theodore Askidas, as Cyril asserts, but that the concerns expressed by the miaphysites over the previous decade had indeed been heard, as Liberatus also suggests.” The Case Against Diodore and Theodore: Texts and Their Contexts (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 116. 326 The Acts of the Council of Constantinople of 553: With Related Texts on the Three Chapters Controversy, translated with commentary by Richard Price (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2009), I.19.

165 will indicate how the revenge plot thesis became established.

The sixth-century hagiographies of Palestinian monasticism, Cyril of Scythopolis, serve as the starting point for any investigation of the second Origenist controversy. In the Life of Sabas, the Sabaite monk Theodore Askidas is consistently portrayed as a villain. Theodore and Domitian are, on Cyril’s testimony, hypocritical heretics who secretly conceal their Origenism by ostensibly fighting for Chalcedon.327 They were forced to sign the edict Justinian issued against the Origenists, but Theodore’s hypocrisy became evident due to his persecution of the orthodox. The issue of the Three Chapters is scarcely hinted at in Cyril’s lives. For this reason, one would believe, relying only upon

Cyril’s witness, that the Fifth Council chiefly concerned Origenism. One would also believe in a duplicitous and influential Theodore Askidas.

A second source on the matter is the Breviarium of Liberatus of Carthage. The importance of this work eclipses by far the actual work that has been done on it. The derivative nature of the first few chapters of the church history is probably the best explanation of its neglect. Yet the latter chapters form our only narrative for some events of the ecclesiastical history of the sixth century. It is from Liberatus that certain elements of the revenge plot thesis are derived. In the twenty-fifth chapter of the Breviarium we are told that Theodore Askidas was an enemy of the aforementioned deacon and Roman apocrisarius, Pelagius, and a most bitter defender of Origen. For this reason, having learned that Origen was condemned, contrived with the aid of Theodora to persuade

Justinian to anathematize the Three Chapters. Liberatus does not indicate that Theodore

327 Cyril of Scythopolis, Lives, edited by Eduard Schwartz, Kyrillos von Skythopolis, Texte und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der alchristlichen Literatur (Leipzig, 1939), 188,25-189.

166 himself signed the condemnation.

A third source, the Defense of the Three Chapters, was written by Facundus, bishop of Hermiane in North Africa. The work is a very lengthy and very detailed response to and refutation of Justinian’s lost edict against the Three Chapters, promulgated in 544. The briefest section near the beginning of Facundus’ Defense concerns us now. Facundus, discussing how the spirit of heresy came upon the church, asserts the now familiar charge that it was through the agency of a certain persons who, hiding the pagan doctrines of Origen under the name of Christianity, sought some means of disturbing the peace of the church. Their opportunity to do so came when Origen was condemned.

And all this did not escape public notice, particularly when Domitian, bishop of Ancyra [...] who was himself plainly a champion of the Origenist heresy, wrote a letter to the most blessed Pope Vigilius. With God having wrenched it from him, he confessed that the accomplices of Origen, when they saw that they could not defend their own dogmas [...] stirred up these scandals in the church in retribution against the things done against Origen.328

While only Domitian is mentioned here, Anne Fraisse-Betoulieres, the author of the notes in the Sources Chretiennes edition of the Defense, takes those hiding under the name of

Christian to include Theodore Askidas, as is the custom.

Between these three sources, it seems we have a fairly strong case to support the revenge plot thesis of the relationship between the Second Origenist and Three Chapters

Controversies. On closer examination, however, we shall find that this explanation alone is inadequate and that it misses some important insights.

328 Facundus of Hermiane, Defense des trois chapitres (A Justinien), ed. by J.-M. Clement, OSB and R. Vander Plaetse; intro., trans., and notes by Anne Fraisse-Betoulieres (Paris: Cerf, 2002), 1.2.4.

167 Problems with the Revenge Plot Thesis

As it stands, an honest evaluation of the revenge plot presents us, it must be admitted, presents a rather strange narrative. Theodore Askidas and Domitian of Ancyra made no known attempts to dissuade the court from condemning Origen. This though they had both the political access and, at least in the case of Theodore, the intellectual tools to mount a defense. Instead, we are to believe that Theodore Askidas and Domitian, preserving their influence by signing the condemnation of their secret hero, expended that influence on a project of revenge. This revenge consisted of having the writings of three long dead men condemned for Nestorianism, although one of the three was the target of this conspiracy chiefly because he had written against another dead man, Origen of

Alexandria. Note that this revenge did nothing to harm those who had supposedly arranged the condemnation of Origen. We are to believe, furthermore, that one of the conspirators, Domitian, confessed the whole plot to Pope Vigilius, who was then actively opposing the condemnation of the Three Chapters. The letter in which the confession is supposed to have occurred does not come down to us and in none of his writings does

Vigilius refer to the condemnation of the Three Chapters as being arranged by a conspiracy of secret Origenist heretics.

In short, the entire Origenist revenge conspiracy theory rests on the witness of

Liberatus, Facundus, and Cyril. These sources, as we shall discuss briefly, are not without their problems. The reputation of Cyril’s Lives, once considered very reliable sources, has suffered over the years. The works of Antoine Guillaumont concerning the sources for sixth-century Origenism was a revelation in this regard. Much of what has long been regarded as sixth-century Origenism were in fact from the works of Evagrius of Pontus.

168 There are no contemporary documents written by Origenists able to confirm that those

Cyril accuses actually believed the doctrines ascribed to them. As Brian Daley has forcefully and convincingly argued, the writings of , the one accused author whose works come down to us, not only do not prove crypto-Origenist but are at times anti-Origenist.329 Finally, the critical work of Daniël Hombergen has undermined the historicity of Life of in particular and Cyril’s Lives in general.330

In sum, Cyril alone is unreliable in large part because his genre requires him to produce heretics for his monastic heroes to refute. While there may well have been monks in

Palestine who believed passionately that Origen’s works could be helpful to the monastic life, Cyril’s stereotyped view of Origenism do not offer us evidence for their beliefs, hidden or open.

Facundus and Liberatus present us with a slightly different problem. First, one may speculate given their common cause, prominence, and geographic origins that they were not many links apart in their social networks. Indeed, it is very likely that they knew one another and, therefore, the common element of their story may share a common source. If this is the case, then we ought not to regard them as separate witnesses. Since they are writing specifically to defend the Three Chapters, they have every incentive to suggest that the source of the condemnation of the Three Chapters was a heretic manipulating the innocent and otherwise orthodox emperor under the guise of defending

Chalcedon. These reasons alone are sufficient to cast doubt on their narratives. Yet the

329 Brian Daley, “The Origenism of Leontius of Byzantium,” Journal of Theological Studies 27 (1976): 333-369. 330 Hombergen, Daniël. The Second Origenist Controversy: A New Perspective on Cyril of Scythopolis’ Monastic for Sixth-Century Origenism. Rome: Studia Anselmiana, 2001.

169 chief reason to question the revenge plot lies not so much in its implausibility, great though it is, as in its superfluity. To see why a crypto-Origenist revenge conspiracy is superfluous, we should turn first to how these supposed crypto-Origenists made their way into positions of influence to begin with.

Sabaites in Constantinople

In 530, in the wake of the Samaritan revolt, the Patriarch of Jerusalem, Peter, sent

Sabas, the renowned founder of monasteries in Palestine, on an embassy to

Constantinople. This would not be Sabas's first trip to New Rome, as he had been sent by the Patriarch Elias on an embassy to the emperor Anastasius a little less than twenty years earlier.331 Peter's task for Sabas was to “beg the emperor to grant remission of the taxes of

First and Second Palestine on account of the murders and destruction perpetuated by the

Samaritans.”332 Sabas's embassy to the Chalcedonian emperor was clearly a great success, as the rich details offered by Cyril of Scythopolis reveal.333

For our purposes, however, Sabas's mission was more consequential than just the addition of tax-free income for Jerusalem. The greatest significance of this embassy lies in the connections it creates, connections which will help shape events well after the watershed moment of 536. Upon Sabas's arrival in Constantinople, “our divinely protected emperor, overjoyed, sent the imperial galleys to meet him; with them went out to meet him the patriarch Epiphanius, father Eusebius and Bishop Hypatius of

Ephesus.”334 Hypatius is the same influential bishop whom we encountered earlier when

331 Cyril, 139,20 et seq. 332 Cyril, 173,6-9. 333 Cyril, 176-8. 334 Cyril, 173. Unless otherwise indicated, all are from Richard M.

170 discussing the Colloquium of 532. Sabas's reputation is further highlighted by being received.

This father Eusebius, however, is new to our story and this is also his first— though not his final—appearance in Cyril's narrative.335 He is something of a mysterious figure, inserted into the vita without introduction, as though the reader is expected to recognize the name. Yet outside Cyril and ambiguous entries in subscription lists, he only rarely appears in other sources. One such sources is Novel XL, wherein he is described as a priest and treasurer of the holy church of Constantinople.336 Nevertheless, the combined evidence of this novel and his actions in Cyril show clearly that he was a man of influence. In fact, his influence outweighed his nominal position, as he was able to facilitate significant connections within a Chalcedonian network still growing around the court.

Cyril's narrative of Sabas's embassy naturally includes his hero's appearance and speech before the emperor, along with a detail about which Cyril offers a highly implausible gloss. After requesting tax breaks and aid for Palestine, per the requirements of his mission, Sabas assures the emperor that God will give the emperor victory in

Africa and Rome as recompense. The purpose of this victory, Sabas adds, is that the emperor might root out the Arian, Nestorian, and Origenist heresies. Cyril then explains

Price, Lives of the Monks of Palestine by Cyril of Scythopolis (Kalamazoo, MI: Cistercian Publications, 1991). 335 Thanks are due to Rod Stearn for drawing my attention to the probable importance of father Eusebius, a figure I had overlooked in my readings of Cyril's vitae. 336 “[…] Εὐσέβιος ὁ θεοφιλέστατος πρεσβύτερος καὶ κειμηλιάρχης τῆς κατὰ τὴν βασιλίδα ταύτην πόλιν ἁγιωτάτης ἐκκλησίας [...]” Wilhelm Kroll and Rudolf Schoell, Corpus Iuris Civilis: Novellae, 4th ed. (Berlin: Weidmannos, 1912), 259.10-12.

171 that these heresies were each chosen for a particular reason, of which the Origenist is most relevant to our concerns at the moment:

He included the destructive heresy of Origen in the rejection of the said heresies, since one of the monks with him, Byzantine by birth and named Leontius, who was one of those admitted with Nonnus into the New Laura after the death of the Agapêtus, had been found embracing the doctrines of Origen; though claiming to support the Council of Chalcedon, he was detected holding the views of Origen. On hearing this and remembering the words of the blessed Agapêtus, our father Sabas, acting with severity, expelled both Leontius and those with the views of Theodore and excluded them from his company, and asked the emperor to expel both heresies.337

This Leontius, first introduced by Cyril here, will become one of the most prominent figures of the Vita Sabae and arguably of Chalcedonian thought in the sixth century. We will leave off the question of his supposed Origenism for the moment, for it is enough now to note the circumstances under which Cyril portrays his return to

Constantinople. An intellectual (as he proves to be in the narrative) of Constantinopolitan extraction, he is said to be expelled from the group while in Constantinople, clearly being rejected by Sabas if we follow Cyril. Cyril repeats this claim later in his narrative.338

Yet for a monk abandoned in disgrace by his abbot, an abbot with the esteem of the emperor, Leontius seems to have done very well for himself. By the time we arrive at

Innocentius's account, Leontius is listed along with Hypatius and the above mentioned father Eusebius as one selected to attend the Colloquium of 532. Here, he is described as a monk and the apocrisarius patrum constitutorum. Despite Cyril's distaste for the man, his influence in the Vita Sabae, and his close cooperation with father Eusebius, cannot be denied.339 This picture of Leontius stands in contrast to Sabas's supposed public rejection

337 Cyril, 176. 338 Cyril, 179,8. 339 Cyril, 189-191.

172 of him.

Within a few short years, Leontius exerts his influence to promote other Sabaite monks and place them within the growing court circle. The council held in 536, and the events surrounding it, saw the arrival of many from Palestine and other parts of the empire. Two such individuals, who may be found repeatedly in the subscription lists, were Domitian and Theodore Askidas. Like Leontius, these two are arch-villains of

Cyril's narrative. In Cyril's treatment of their arrival in Constantinople, they prove comparable to Leontius in another way as well.

At this same time Domitian, superior of the monastery of Martyrius, and Theodore surnamed Ascidas, who ruled over those of the New Laura, both of them partaking to satiety of the plague of Origen, sailed to Constantinople, where they pretended to be battling for the Council of Chalcedon. Through recommendation by the above-mentioned Leontius of Byzantium they attached themselves to father Eusebius and through him to our most pious emperor. Veiling their heresy by abundant hypocrisy and enjoying immediate access to the palace, Domitian received the first see of the province of Galatia, while Theodore succeeded to the see of Caesarea of Cappadocia.340

Again we find father Eusebius acting to facilitate connections between the emperor and a growing circle of Chalcedonian intellectuals in Constantinople. The emperor bolsters the institutional authority of this circle by providing them with bishoprics, a rather embarrassing fact for Cyril. When admitting the influence of this circle, Cyril always injects a conspiratorial subtext but he cannot avoid the clear signs of the emperor's favor.

Cyril assures his reader that the wicked Origenists in Palestine, under the leadership of

Nonnus, took strength from such appointments. We will turn later to the question of

Origenist identity, but for now it is enough to note the construction of a set of connections between Constantinople and Palestine which would include influential intellectuals and

340 Cyril, 188,25-189,6

173 advisers to the emperor.

The council of 536 saw another influential actor added to our cast, this one coming from a different quarter altogether. One recalls from an earlier chapter the prominence of the deacon and papal apocrisarius Dioscorus, who used his position—both in the sense of his formal role and his network placement—to great effect in an effort to serve his own interests. We find a like character in the person of the Roman deacon

Pelagius, who was appointed as papal apocrisarius to the emperor by pope Agapetus, just before his passing.341 This Pelagius would later become Pope Pelagius I, succeeding

Vigilius. Our narrative sources naturally tend to focus on this later part of his story, along with his involvement in the troubled implementation of the Three Chapters condemnation in the West. At this early stage, however, he already acts as an instrument of both papal and imperial influence, inasmuch as the interests of both coincide. It is essential to remember this dual role he plays as he travels about the Mediterranean.

Unitas Facta Est Ecclesiarum

In the wake of the council of 536 and its condemnation of the Severus and his allies, Liberatus makes a remarkable claim.

But Severus the Antiochian had already been condemned, and Anthimus the Constantinopolitan by Agapetus, the Roman pope, and Menas the Constantinopolitan, from libelli given against them to the Emperor Justinian by the prelates of the monasteries, and by prelates of first and second Syria, and by prelates of the monasteries of Jerusalem and the desert. In this manner, therefore, the unity of the Church was accomplished in the tenth year of the glorious Augustus, the Emperor Justinian.342

341 “his peractis constituens papa apud imperatorem apocrisarium ecclesiae suae Pelagius diaconum suum, dum Italiam reuerti disponit, Constantinoplim obiit.” ACO, 2.5, 136.15-17. 342 “Seuerus autem Antiochens iam fuerat condemnatus et Anthimus

174 For the modern reader, knowing that on the ground in the east the divisions among

Christians were being deepened and institutionalized, this is a striking statement and it can be hard to know exactly what to make of it. But Liberatus is describing here the purely formal unity Justinian had achieved in the Pentarchy. Of course Patriarch Peter of

Jersusalem had long held the Chalcedonian line, being rivaled in his dedication to the cause by the Patriarch Ephraim of Antioch. With Agapetus's fateful trip to

Constantinople, both old and new Rome were now headed by loyal Chalcedonian patriarchs. It is at this juncture, according to Liberatus, that Pelagius would advance a candidate for exiled Theodosius's seat in Alexandria.

Therefore, after Theodosius the Alexandrian was sent into exile, a certain Paul, one of the of the Tabennensian monks, was ordained bishop for the Alexandrian See, a man clearly orthodox, accepting the Chalcedonian synod, with the Roman apocrisarius Pelagius having intervened. He was ordained by Menas of Constantinople, in the presence of the same Pelagius, responsarius of Vigilius, and the apocrisarii of the Antiochian Ephraem, and the apocrisarii of Peter of Jerusalem.343

With the ordination of Paul, a formal unity among the great patriarchates was achieved.

Indeed, with the presence of the apocrisarii, the ordination of Paul is here portrayed as a common effort of the Pentarchy. Some Chalcedonian optimism might have been justified

Constantinoplitanus ab Agapito papa Romano et Menate Constantinopolitano et libellis datis aduersus eos imperatori Iustiniano a praesulibus monasteriorum primae et secundae Syriae et praesulibus monasteriorum Hierosolimorum et eremi. hoc ergo modo unitas facta est ecclesiarum anno x imperii gloriosi Iustiniani augusti.” ACO 2.5, 138.29-33. 343 “Postquam ergo Theodosius Alexandrinus in exsilium missus est, Paulus quidam unus abbatum Tabennensium monachorum ad Alexandrinam sedem ordinatur episcopus Pelagio interueniente apocrisiario Romano plane orthodoxus suscipiens Calcedonensem synodum ordinatus est a Menna Constantinopoli praesente eodem Pelagio responsario Vigilii et apocrisiariis Euphraemii Antiocheni et apocrisiariis Petri Hierosolimorum.” ACO 2.5, 138.24-29.

175 at this point, were it not for circumstances which would shortly follow and which it must be admitted were outside the court's control.

It seems Paul was not the best choice for the role. His key qualification, that he affirmed Chalcedon, would be overridden by his apparent involvement in the murder of one of his deacons.344 In the wake of this event, the unity of our narrative and sources suffers, as does the unity of the Chalcedonians who attend the court.

This much is clear: Justinian wanted to rectify the situation with Paul the

Tabennesiot and he wanted to do so while maintaining the appearance of unity he had attained at Paul's ordination. To accomplish this, Justinian dispatched a group of prelates to Alexandria to install a replacement. The details of this mission vary in the sources, however, and it will be necessary to look at them separately.345

First, we will look at Liberatus's treatment of the matter. In the wake of the murder scandal in Alexandria, Paul had been exiled to Gaza.346 Justinian sent Pelagius to depose Paul and select a replacement. Pelagius included Hypatius of Ephesus in his party, to which he would add Ephraim of Alexandria and Peter of Jerusalem as he stopped at the see of each along the way to Gaza. Upon arriving in Gaza, Paul was deposed and replaced with Zoilus.347

344 A somewhat fragmentary account of this appears in PZ, 10.1. Greater detail is offered in Liberatus, 138-39. 345 Indeed, Evagrius Scholasticus skips this matter altogether, making Zoilus the immediate successor to Theodosius. EH, 4.37. 346 ACO 2.5, 139.22-24. 347 “Et post haec misit imperator Pelagium diaconum et apocrisiarium primae sedis Romanae Antiochiam cum sacris suis quibus praecepit ut cum Euphraemio eiusdem urbis episcopo et Petrus Hierosolimita et Hypatius Ephesinus venirent Gazam et Paulo episcopo pallium auferrent, eumque deponerent. Pelagius ergo profectus Antiochiam et inde Hierosolimam cum memoratis patriarchis et aliquantis episcopis venit Gazam et auferentes Paulo

176 From this point, Liberatus has Pelagius return to Constantinople from Gaza, picking up 'certain monks from Jerusalem' along the way who bore chapters extracted from Origen which they desired the emperor to condemn.348 And here we find the first clear evidence of tension among the triumphant and unified Chalcedonians.

Therefore, Pelagius, proving to be a rival (aemulus) to Theodore, the bishop of Caesarea Cappadocia (who desired to do him harm for the reason that he was a defender of Origen) together with Menas, the archbishop of Constantinople, was demanding from the princeps that he order it to come to pass, as those monks were beseeching, that Origen might be condemned, and those very chapters with such teachings. The Emperor readily agreed, quietly rejoicing to bring judgment on such cases: after he ordered a condemnation of anathema was decreed against Origen and those chapters, which Menas, the archbishop, and the bishops found in Constantinople unanimously subscribed. Thereupon it was directed to the Roman bishop Vigilius, Zoilus the Alexandrian, Ephraim the Antiochian, and Peter the Jerusalemite, whom having received it and subscribed, the deceased Origen was condemned who was formerly alive before he was condemned.349

There is a fair bit here to unpack, and we will return to elements of this passage later, but the first point worthy of note is the rivalry between Theodore and Pelagius. We will see this rivalry indicated in other sources as well. Here, Pelagius's motivation is an apparent

pallium deposuerunt eum et ordinauerunt pro eo Zoilum […]” ACO 2.5, 139.26-32. 348 “sed reuertente Pelagio Constantinopolim monachi quidam ad Hiersolimis, super quibus Pelagius in Gazam transitum habuit, uenerunt ad eum comitatu portantes capitula de libris Origenis excerpta uolentes agere apud imperatorem, ut Origenes damnaretur cum illis capitulis.” ACO 2.5, 139.33- 140.3. 349 “igitur Pelagius aemulus existens Theodoro Caesareae Cappadociae episcopo, uolens ei nocere eo quod esset Origenis defensor, una cum Menate archiepiscopo Constantinopolitano flagitabat a principe ut iuberet fieri quo illi monachi supplicabant, ut Origenes damnatur cum ipso capitula talia docentia. annuit imperator facillime, gaudens se de talibus causis iduicium ferre. iubente eo dictata est in Origenem et illa capitula anathematis damnatio. quam suscribentes una cum Menata archiepiscopop * * apud Constantinopolim reppereit et inde directa est Vigilio Roman episcopo, Zoilo Alexandrino, Ephremio Antiocheno et Petro Hierosolimitano. quibus eam accipientibus et subscribentibus Origenes damnatus est mortuus, qui uiuens olim fuerat ante damnatus.” ACO 2.5, 140.3-12.

177 enmity toward Origen, an enmity which had not hitherto been indicated. It may be that the faction of ostensibly anti-Origen Jerusalemite monks put him on to the matter, or it may be that Pelagius stopped to visit these monks with the express purpose of finding a means to undermine Theodore who, one may recall, had come from the Sabaite monasteries. One can only speculate when it comes to exact motives. What is clear from this and other sources is that there were two factions of monks around Jerusalem, one associated Theodore Askidas and with Origen, at least rhetorically, and the other opposed to the same. It was this latter group Pelagius chose to aid, as he offered them access to the court. It may be inferred from this that this faction—likely what would become Cyril of

Scythopolis's faction—did not have such ready access before Pelagius's arrival. This makes sense when we recall the prominence of Theodore, Leontius, and Domitian at court, a prominence that began with Sabas's own journey to Constantinople and the introduction of Leontius to father Eusebius.

Cyril of Scythopolis's account of these events relies on different and sometimes contrasting details. For reasons Cyril does not explain, Leontius had already returned from Constantinople when he began to gather his Origenist allies to oppose the successors of Sabas. Their efforts were thwarted, however, by the miraculous intervention of God.350 This is the context Cyril provides for the arrival of the mission to depose Paul the Tabennesiot.

At this time there arrived in Palestine the patriarch of Antioch Ephraem and father Eusebius on account of the deposition of Bishop Paul of Alexandria. When father Eusebius came to Jerusalem after the dissolution of the council, Leontius presented to him those expelled from the Great Laura, who accused Gelasius of dividing the community into two halves and of expelling them while

350 Cyril, 190.

178 currying favor with their opponents. Father Eusebius, misled by Leontius' words and knowing nothing of their heresy, sent for Abba Gelasius and, in an attempt to resolve the dispute, pressed him either to receive back those expelled or to expel their opponents. In the face of such pressure the fathers, after deliberation, sent out of the laura Stephen, Timothy, and four others of the brethren, who, putting up with their voluntary exile, went off to Antioch, where they informed Patriarch Ephraem of what had happened and showed him the work of blessed Antipatrus. The patriarch, reading of the blasphemies of Origen in the work given him, and learning from those who gave it of the actions of the Origenists at Jerusalem, was stirred to courageous action, and by a public anathema of synodical authority condemned the doctrines of Origen.351

The presence of Ephraem, along with father Eusebius from Constantinople, returning from the deposition of Paul indicates this mission is the same as is described above from

Liberatus's account. Pelagius is absent from this account, but it is probable given what we saw in Liberatus that Pelagius traveled with the above mentioned Stephen, Timothy, and four other monks to meet with Ephraem in Antioch before proceeding onward to

Constantinople with complaints against Origen. It would appear that Ephraem had left the party in Jerusalem after the deposition to return to his see.

Following Cyril's account, this condemnation of Origen must have caused some panic among the supposed Origenist monks who then controlled Palestine, for they then made moves which would force Peter of Jerusalem to turn against them.

When this became known at Jerusalem to the vexation of Nonnus and his party, they, in alliance with Leontius of Byzantium, who had sailed back to Constantinople, Domitian of Galatia, and Theodore of Cappadocia, pressed Archbishop Peter to remove Ephraem's name from the sacred diptychs. At their causing this great discord, the archbishop sent secretly for Sophronius and Gelasius and told them to compose a petition against the Origenists, adjuring him not to remove Patriarch Ephraem's name from the sacred diptychs. When the fathers had composed this petition and presented it, the archbishop of receiving it sent it to the emperor with a letter telling him of the innovations of the Origenists. On receiving this petition, our most pious emperor issued an edict against the doctrines of Origen, to which edict Patriarch Menas of Constantinople and the

351 Cyril, 191.

179 synod under him appended their signatures.352

It should not be surprising that Peter would refuse any request to remove Ephraem from the diptychs. Even if Ephraem were not both influential and, at times, ruthless, for Peter to condemn the patriarch of Antioch unilaterally and risk schism in the newly united

Chalcedonian imperial church would be to guarantee his own fall. If Nonnus and his faction did request Peter take such an extreme action, they must have done so in desperation. I would suggest that they were, in fact, desperate and for good reason. To see what drove this desperation, however, we must turn to the question of Origenism.

Origenism and Origenisms

“One of the dangers in talking of Origenism,” wrote Andrew Louth, “is in thinking that we know what we are talking about.353” This danger is a result of a process both historical and historiographical. The term carries much ambiguity, a product of its shifting context and its alienation from concrete referents early in its use. This ambiguity is present in many of the sources and is also reflected in scholarly descriptions of

Origenism. A brief taxomony of scholarly 'Origenisms' will help to clarify matters.

A most concise identification of the various scholarly ‘Origenisms’ is in the work of Sherwood. Attempting to find a workable definition of the Origenism opposed by Maximus the Confessor in the seventh century, both and Sherwood were forced to wrestle with different meanings of Origenism. Sherwood

352 Cyril, 191. 353 Andrew Louth, "The Collectio Sabbaitica and Sixth-Century Origenism," in Origeniana Octava : Origen and the Alexandrian Tradition, Papers of the 8th International Origen Congress, Pisa, 27-31 August 2001 Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium, ed. Lorenzo Perrone (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2003), 1167.

180 noted the distinct way they were employing the same term.354 As with so many other problems in , the diversity of Origenisms may be attributed to the richness of Origen's own writings. According to Sherwood, von Balthasar's notion of

Origenism derived from a broader understanding of Origen's work, from “the animus which inspire, the intuition which directs, the whole body of Origen's thought”. The

Origenism Sherwood sought from the Ambigua of Maximus the Confessor, however, was a different matter. Sherwood's concern was for “articular definable doctrines, whether of

Origen himself or of those extremists who subsequently claimed him as their master.355”

Sherwood also points to the three distinct Origenisms identified by Werner Jaeger. There is the Origenism of the “gymnast”, the author of the Περὶ ἀρχῶν who “set forth a number of tentative explanations of fundamental questions, whose answers were not to be found expressed in Scripture nor in the Church’s teaching.” This is the Origen whose work attracted condemnation in the First Origenist Controversy and ultimately at the Second

Council of Constantinople under the Emperor Justinian. There is Origenism as the hermeneutical approach of Origen of Alexandria, who followed in the tradition of .

There is, in the last place, “the Origen of the ascetico-mystical ideals.356”

354 “[I]n effect von Balthasar and I have been speaking of two diverse Origenisms. I have spoken […] of the erroneous doctrines, rejected by Maximus, but attributed to Origen; von Balthasar, rather, of Origen’s - theology and basic intuition, to which Maximus was always in some way tributary.” Polycarp Sherwood. “Maximus and Origenism : ΑΡΧΗ ΚΑΙ ΤΕΛΟΣ.” Berichte zum XI. internationalen Byzantinisten-Kongress III, 1, 1- 27. (München, 1958), 1. 355 Already at this juncture, we may do well to note the assumption of a group of people who subscribed to such definable doctrines and claimed Origen's name. As we shall see, however, the historical record indicates more ascription than subscription, as many are accused of Origenism but those who claim it escape us. 356 Ibid., 1-2.

181 Sherwood sought a rather narrow definition of later Origenism, assuming

Maximus' refutation had a specific, heretical object. The works of von Balthasar,

Sherwood, and Jaeger as perceptive as they are, have not provided scholars with a single and widely applicable definition of Origenism. They have, in other words, not succeeded in providing a description of the nature of Origenism as an historical phenomenon but have left us with a proliferation of Origenisms. This is not a failing on their part, for succeeding generations of scholars have continued to wrestle with the matter and have largely confirmed that the term Origenism cannot be used without careful definition.

The more recent work of Brian Daley brought closer to a definition applicable to a wide variety of ‘Origenists’, especially in the sixth century. It was the great difficulty eliciting the precise nature of Origenism from the sources that led him to his understanding.

Perhaps the most puzzling challenge for historical research on sixth-century Origenism, however, is to find its inner identity: an intellectual system, a set of theological methods and doctrines, that Origenists all shared and anti-Origenists all rejected. Since the 1970’s, in fact, it has been my contention that “Origenism”, in the sixth century at least, signified more a style of religious thinking, and perhaps a set of priorities in living the monastic life, than it did adherence to a body of doctrine which could find its inspiration in the works of Origen.357

Thus, Daley could include the likes of Leontius of Byzantium and Theodore Askidas under a quite broad definition. This definition was based upon an ‘Origenist’ style of thought which included “a high estimate of the value of the intellect in the perfection of faith, a willingness to speculate, an ability to interpret Scripture, monastic tradition, and even dogmatic canons with flexibility and a predominantly spiritual twist, a conviction of

357 Brian Daley, "What Did 'Origenism' Mean in the Sixth Century?," in Origeniana Sexta : Origène et La : Actes Du Colloquium Origenianum Sextum, Chantilly, 30 Août-3 Septembre 1993, International Colloquium for Origen Studies, ed. Gilles Dorival and Alain Le Boulluec (Leuven: Leuven University Press : Peeters, 1995), 628.

182 the indestructible dignity and autonomy of the human person and a correspondingly high confidence in humanity’s future.358”

Daley’s understanding of Origenism allowed him to reconcile the assumed reliability of Cyril of Scythopolis’ narrative with the apparent orthodoxy of Leontius of

Byzantium, a point for which he argued with great vigor in his noteworthy article of

1976.359 Furthermore, Daley gave solid reasons why any group so defined might come under the suspicions of many in the empire.

Presumably, too, as Leontius’s obiter dicta suggest, they had themselves read classics of earlier Origenist theology, including the more speculative works of Didymus and Evagrius, with excitement and respect, even if they integrated them into their own theological convictions to varying degrees, and in very different ways. What made them all “politically incorrect”, however, what made them seem dangerous to both abbots and emperors, was probably their intellectual independence, their challenging presence as “gnostics” and λογιώτεροι in a world and a Church desperately seeking to recapture, in concrete institutional ways, the vision of a lost unity.360

Since the publication of Daley’s article, “What Did ‘Origenism’ Mean in the Sixth

Century?”, scholars have tended toward broader definitions of Origenism. Such definitions of Origenism as a more spiritual or intellectual movement without doctrinal specifics are a natural fit for the vague and ambiguous sources. In this vein, Daniël

Hombergen says that the Origenists of the sixth century “represent a rather individualistic current concentrating primarily on the development of the interior life as a way of spiritual progress in the line of the fourth-century Egyptian tradition.”361 This,

358 Ibid., 638. 359 Brian Daley, "The Origenism of Leontius of Byzantium," 333-69. 360 Ibid., 638. 361 Daniël Hombergen, "Cyril of Scythopolis and the Second Origenist Controversy : Summary of a Critical Study on Cyril's Monastic Biographies Concerning Their Reliability as Historical Sources for Sixth-Century Origenism," Studia Monastica 43, no. 1 (2001): 44.

183 Hombergen writes, is to be contrasted with the position represented by Cyril of

Scythopolis which he “characterized as rather collectivist.”362

As recently as 2003, the problem was taken up again by Andrew Louth. Louth argued that it was the polarization between the intellectual and ascetic that “we can see in sixth-century Palestine, rather than anything more clearly definable.”363 Louth says of his own conclusion: “This is by no means a new conclusion. It is very much that reached by

Brian Daley more than a quarter century ago in his justly famous article on The

Origenism of Leontius of Byzantium.364” Louth concludes by pointing with approval to a section from Antoine Guillaumont’s study and edition of the Kephalaia Gnostica of

Evagrius Ponticus.

En réalité, il ne faut pas se représenter ces moines comme des hérétiques conscients, cherchant à tenir secretes leurs opinions par l’effet seulement d’une vulgaire prudence. Leur «gnosticisme» était bien plutôt un esprit de libre recherché vis-à-vis de certaines questions qui, n’ayant pas reçu de réponse dans la Révélation, restaient un object d’investigation pour l’intelligence; ainsi en était-il de la pré-existence et de l’apocatastase… Cependant la liberté d’esprit, l’audace intellectuelle qu’ils estimaient légitimes chez le «gnostique» étaient certainement associées en eux à un attachement reel à l’Écriture, aux dogmes, à l’enseignement ecclésiatique traditonnel et à toutes les exigencies d’un christianisme sincèrement professé. Cette attitude n’était pas du tout comprise de leur adversaries, qui n’y voyaint qu’orgueil et vaine gloire.365

Concurring with the position of Guillaumont, Daley, Hombergen, and Louth, I will here maintain that the so-called Origenism of the sixth century did not represent a discreet and coherent set of doctrinal positions but something else. Many of the sources, both primary

362 Ibid., 44. 363 Louth, 1174. 364 Ibid. 365 Antoine Guillaumont, Les "Képhalaia Gnostica" d'Évagre Le Pontique et L'histoire de L'origénisme chez les Grecs et chez les Syriens (Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1962), 161-62.

184 and secondary, either assume the existence of a coherent set of beliefs which is ascribed to Origenists, or construct it where it is lacking.

For this reason, one must ask why, if Origenism was no specific theology in its own right, the sources are so concerned to oppose a specific set of doctrines. Granted the sources often describe somewhat different doctrines, hence scholarly confusion on the matter, but the fact remains that all the sources confidently refute positions they believe

Origenist heretics to hold. Indeed, if we are to trust the sixth-century monastic biographer

Cyril of Scythopolis's reading of events, an Ecumenical Council was called to address the danger of this heresy. And why, furthermore, did a localized dispute merit an edict from the Emperor himself if, in reality, the disputants were not concerned with doctrinal questions of the sort that would affect the whole Church? If there were no heresy advocated but, rather, an internal monastic conflict in Palestine, it seems that disciplinary action from Jerusalem would be sufficient to deal with the situation. At any rate, questions of local discipline do not often result in lengthy personal doctrinal refutations from the Emperor himself.

To answer these questions, it becomes useful to focus on two aspects of

Origenism in this period. First, we will look in detail at how it was actually constructed in the sources. This, in turn, will make it possible for us to understand how it actually functioned within its social context. Origenism, I will argue, is a rhetorical construct employed for the purpose of constructing symbolic and, eventually, social boundaries in order to drive those tarred with the term from power, influence, and even the monasteries where they lived and worked. It is a ‘devil term'366 and a “polemical device of

366 To use the phrase from Richard M. Weaver, The Ethics of Rhetoric (Chicago:

185 extraordinary potency”367 paralleling Manichaeanism after the fourth century. Origenism by its very nature cannot have adherents because it was created as a caricature of reviled beliefs and practices, the potency of which lies in its ability to scandalize. Therefore the term Origenist, when used in this sense, can have no concrete referent to a doctrinal system with genuine adherents. Origenism has no stable meaning beyond its social and polemical function. Thus scholars attempting to reconstruct a theology from sixth-century sources face considerable difficulty. Origenism is a product of an historical process of dissociation between the use by polemicists of the language, labels, and texts associated with Origenism and any actual theological positions and concerns of those accused of

Origenism. If the Colloquium of 532 demonstrated to us how symbolic boundaries might be manipulated and adjusted to create the possibility of inclusion and cooperation, we will see the exact inverse in the construction of Origenism. To understand this, we may now turn briefly to the beginning of this process.

The Construction of Origenism as a Symbolic Resource

It is often enough said that the winners write the history, but an important corollary to this commonplace is that the winners will define the terms in which the history is written. We might well speak of Origenism in a different light if Rufinus were our only source for the First Origenist Controversy. In such a case, the term Origenism would not have become so strong a pejorative—perhaps it would not exist at all. But in actual fact, Origenism was to be defined by its self-proclaimed opponents. The defining

Henry Regnery Company, 1953), 222.. 367 To borrow from David G. Hunter, Marriage, Celibacy, and Heresy in Ancient Christianity (New York: Oxford University Press, 2007), 130.

186 process is bipartite. On the one hand, anti-Origenist polemicists extended the term

Origenist and all associated language to encompass as much negative meaning as possible, increasing its polemical effectiveness. This process largely abstracted

'Origenism' and language associated with it from actual doctrinal positions, the latter remaining at most as mere caricature. On the other hand, those labeled Origenists, once it is clear that they are on the losing side of the controversy, are complicit in this process as a matter of self-defense. This may be illustrated well with the early examples of

Epiphanius of Salamis, representing an anti-Origenist position.

Epiphanius was an early and influential participant in the First Origenist

Controversy.368 Epiphanius’ anti-Origenist polemic had aspects which would be typical of the Origenist Controversies. First, Epiphanius, chiefly concerned with contemporary enemies, uses Origenism and his history of it as a means of attacking them. Elizabeth

Clark has demonstrated how important contemporary questions are in the writings on

Epiphanius and his fellow anti-Origenists. Even as Epiphanius, Theophilus, , and

Shenute attack Origenism, they show very little concern for the third-century

Alexandrian. “Although texts of Origen are frequently quoted in these assaults, the attacks center so firmly on issues of concern to the critics’ own era that they frequently either underestimate or miss entirely the theological problems with which Origen himself grappled.369”

368 For a treatment of Ephiphanius' heresiological work, see Aline Pourkier, L'hérésiogie chez Épiphane de Salamie (Paris: Editions Beauchesne, 1992). Although Pourkier does not devote much of her discussion to Origen or the 'Origenists' as heretics, this volume remains a very thorough treatment of the broader subject of Epiphanius' heresiology. 369 Elizabeth A. Clark, The Origenist Controversy : The Cultural Construction of an Early Christian Debate. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992), 85.

187 Nevertheless, Origenism is made the topic of such assaults, even if his actual thought is not the object. Epiphanius uses opposition to Origenism, for example, as a starting point to attack subordinationism370 and to address contemporary questions of the body.371 Such use of Origen’s writings and the term Origenist separates both from consideration on their own merits and creates associations with any number of heresies instead. Each time Origenism is used as a stand in for other objectionable positions, it is further abstracted from any definable theological position that could be justly labeled with Origen's name. The final product of such abstraction is a simple association between

Origenism and heresy.

Second, Epiphanius uses a selection of stereotyped charges derived from a very particular reading of Origen to create lasting caricature of Origenist beliefs. Such charges amount to a heretical hermeneutic first of Origen’s and later of Evagrius’ corpus. This set of charges gives the form or template for the rhetorical construct Origenism would become. One charge is that Origen held a subordinationist theology.372 A second is that souls preexisted and, at the fall, fell into bodies.373 The third charge, a consequence of the second, is that Origen does not hold the proper teaching on the resurrection of the dead.374

The fourth charge regards the apocatastasis, or the restoration of all in the eschaton, and the corollary restoration of the devil.375 We shall see this set of charges advanced repeatedly.

370 Ibid., 90. 371 Ibid., 91. 372 Frank Williams, trans. The Panarion of Epiphanius of Salamis: Books II and III (New York: E. J. Brill, 1994), 135. 373 Ibid., 135. 374 Ibid., 135-36. 375 Clark, 99.

188 Whether these charges are an accurate representation of the thought of Origen is not particularly important for the purpose of understanding how that representation functions.376 What has happened at this point is that Origenism has become a symbolic resource, a tool such as a conceptual distinction or interpretive strategy which may be employed “in creating, maintaining, contesting, or even dissolving institutionalized social differences”.377 The charges applied to Origen may now be effectively employed against one's opponents in an effort to construct boundaries between them and oneself.

Thus from the early part of the First Origenist Controversy, an association was constructed between a list of heresies, the writings of Origen and, later, Evagrius, and the polemical label of Origenist.378 This understanding could then be applied to those labeled

Origenists without reference to anything written by those to whom Origenism had been ascribed. Reference to the writings of latter-day Origenists would be unnecessary since the pernicious doctrines were assumed to be in the writings of the Origenists' heretical progenitors, Origen and Evagrius. When we arrive at the sixth century, this theme will return with force.

376 The same may be said of the charges of Cyriacus in the Vita Cyriaci. See Hombergen, The Second Origenist Controversy, 283. 377 Lamont and Molnár, 168. 378 It is probable that such charges, coming to a great extent from Epiphanius, served even as the early template for characterizing the doctrinal positions of ‘Origenists’. As Clark notes: “[T]he Ancoratus, dated to 374, and in Panarion 64, dated to 376, indictments that proved central to both Theophilus’s and Jerome’s polemical constructions. Moreover, if (as has been argued) Epiphanius’s Ancoratus was translated into Sahidic in 399 or 400—at the very height of the controversy—even those monks of the Egyptian desert unlettered in Greek could have become familiar with such points of the Origenist debate as the resurrection or nonresurrection of the body. Epiphanius’s understanding of Origenism thus was a base for later discussions of the topic among both the learned and the less-than-learned.” Clark, 86.

189 Origenism in the Sixth Century

By the sixth century, the First Origenist Controversy had long passed from living memory. The rhetorical value of Origenism was able to outlive any identifiably Origenist doctrine because it was able continually to renew and reconstruct itself as a symbolic resource in accordance with the polemical needs of the day. Of course, the desirability of maintaining Origenism as an accusation may be connected with its plausibility. It is apparent that the reading of Origen and Evagrius had not fallen out of fashion, even as certain doctrines which could be derived from them had. I do not doubt, and the sixth- century evidence certainly reflects this, that both authors continued to be read. The heretical doctrines played a relatively small part in the works of Origen and Evagrius, but polemics had stereotyped the image of these two authors according to a heretical pattern.

Furthermore, Epiphanius had connected the notion of Origenism with improper monastic practice. Within the sixth-century monastic world, Origenism remained an obvious label for one’s monastic opponents. The popularity of the texts of Origen and Evagrius offered both plausible grounds for the accusation, as many undoubtedly read such texts, and material from which to construct the accusation. The accusation itself, however, followed the pattern created in the First Controversy.

I intend to set about demonstrating this contention from a few simple yet underappreciated points. First, and most importantly, the descriptions or accusations of

Origenism in the sixth century have a very peculiar quality. Reviewing each description of sixth-century Origenism, we will discover nothing which has an existence independent of earlier texts. This indicates, not a school of thought inspired by the rich works of

Origen and Evagrius, but a polemicists’ caricature derived from them.

190 The second point is that although Origenism is sometimes ascribed to individuals, this seems to be the unverifiable exception rather than the rule. Even the conciliar condemnations of Origenism are against Origen, Evagrius and Didymus. No contemporaries were mentioned by name in the condemnations. This seems an odd thing indeed, given the ferocity of the Second Origenist Controversy indicated by the Cyril of

Scythopolis.

The final point is something of a curiosity in the history of the Church, especially of the Byzantine Church. Cyril of Scythopolis describes some conflict in the immediate aftermath of the Fifth Ecumenical Council but, after the Origenists were banished from the New Laura in 555, they disappear. A condemnation, even a condemnation from an

Ecumenical Council, does not often result in the condemned abandoning their heresy. It may be suggested that perhaps the Origenists simply did not have the support which other more obstinate heresies had in the past. This is certainly possible, though it would leave us to wonder how so small a sect could cause so large a controversy. For now, however, I would like to suggest that the simplest explanation for this curiosity is that the supposed

Origenists had never subscribed to any Origenist doctrines to begin with, but were labeled such as part of a now standard rhetorical tactic in monastic polemics.

Several texts remain standards in any attempt to reconstruct the nature of sixth-century

Origenism. These include chiefly the anathemas of the Fifth Ecumenical Council, the anathemas penned by Justinian, the Lives of Cyril of Scythopolis who provided the foremost narrative of the Controversy, and the Letters of Barsanuphius and John. These sources do indeed describe certain theological positions. Yet it is not apparent from this

191 fact that what is described is an Origenism to which anyone in the sixth century subscribed.

Barsanuphius and John

At first glance, the Letters of Barsanuphius and John seem to describe clearly the position of contemporary Origenists. They speak openly about the presence and circulation of the works of Origen, Evagrius, and Didymus the Blind, and point to their use as well. But a careful reflection on the given context of the conversation, the apparent end intended in the reply, and the shape of the response itself undermines the usefulness of the Letters to those who would attempt to reconstruct sixth-century Origenism.

Letters 600-607 present an interesting picture. Letter 600 begins with the standard

“A brother asked the holy Old Man, Abba Barsanuphius saying”, but it is followed by the telling phrase, “Father, I do not know how I came upon the books of Origen and

Didymus, as well as the Gnostic Chapters of Evagrius and the writings of his disciples.”379 Such a phrase both confirms that a monk of this period was able to give his consideration to the doctrines contained in the Peri Archon and the Kephalaia Gnostica and seems to cast doubt on the presence of any aggressive proponents of Origenism. Two reasons support such a claim: first, the fact that the monk simply “came upon” (ἐνέπεσα) the texts rather than having someone encourage his reading of them. When one bears in mind the realities of manuscript transmission, it becomes apparent that to ‘come upon’

379 Barsanuphius and John, Correspondance, Neyt François O.S.B. Angelis- and Paula de Regnault Lucien, ed. And trans. SC 451(Paris: Editions du Cerf, 1997), 804.2-3, “Οὐκ οἶδα Πάτερ πῶς ἐνέπεσα εἰς τὰ βιβλία Ὠριγένους καὶ Διδύμου, καὶ εἰς τὰ Γνωστικὰ Εὐαγρίου καὶ εἰς τὰ τῶν μαθητῶν αὐτου.”; trans. John Chryssavgis, Barsanuphius and John: Letters (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 2006), 179.

192 such texts is not at all an unlikely occurrence. For manuscripts were not necessarily apt to be in a form like to the monographs of today. Instead, works by a variety of authors would travel together as consort texts within the same codices, depending upon the interests of the copyists or patrons, the availability of texts to be copied, or practical matters such as the amount of parchment left to a copyist. Thus, of the five earliest extant manuscripts of the Praktikos, all five are included with a mélange of other monastic texts.380 While these manuscripts may be dated to several centuries after our period, the realities of manuscript production which led to such practices vary little over the ages.

Thus, for example, a later monk may pick up the codex Casinensis 231 in order to read certain poems of or perhaps the Gnostic Century of Diadochus of

Photikê and he would also come upon a number of Evagrian works. We do not, therefore, need to see the concerned monk's discovery in letter 600 as a product of pamphleteering

Origenists. Instead, this simply reconfirms that a text, once it is on parchment, may have a life independent of partisans advocating its contents.

In Letter 602 the monk presses the point to John. The Letter is both short and pertinent enough to quote in full:

“The same brother asked the same Old Man: “Should we not, then, read even the works of Evagrius?” Response by John.”

380 See Evagrius Ponticus, Traité Pratique, Ou, Le Moine, ed. trans. and comm. Antoine and Claire Guillaumont, Sources chrétiennes 170-71 (Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1971). For discussions of each manuscript, see the following pages of Sources chrétiennes 170: Casinensis Arch. Abbatiae 231, pg. 158; Ath. Protaton 26, pg. 166; Amorgos Chozobiotissis 10, pg. 153; Parisinus gr. 1056, pg. 136; and Parisinus Coislinianus 109, pg. 129. For a more recent treatment of Evagrius and a fruitful reevaluation of Guillaumont's conclusions, see Augustine Casiday, Reconstructing the Theology of Evagrius Ponticus: Beyond Heresy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013).

193 “Do not accept such doctrines from his works; but go ahead and read, if you like, those works that are beneficial for the soul, according to the parable about the net in the . For it has been written: ‘They placed the good into baskets, but threw out the bad.’ You, too, should do the same.”381

The phrase “even the works of Evagrius” (καὶ τὰ τοῦ Εὐαγρίου)382 is a fairly clear indication that certain works of Evagrius, excepting perhaps the Kephalaia Gnostica the monk had just happened upon, were commonly considered acceptable reading for the local monastics. But the very assumption that at least some of the works were acceptable would indicate that certain of the texts of Evagrius had retained what were considered orthodox uses.

The persistent monk did not surrender his wonderings at this advice. In letter 603 we find that these matters have continued to trouble him. Abba John, having revealed the content of the monk’s heart to him, spoke thus:

“Since you said and thought: ‘Why is it that some of the fathers accept the Gnostic Chapters of Evagrius?’ it is true that certain brothers, who regard themselves as knowledgeable, accept these writings; but they have not asked God whether they are true. And God has left them to their own knowledge on this matter. Nevertheless, it is neither my role nor yours to pursue these matters; for our time is given us to examine our passions, as well as to weep and mourn for them.”383

381 Barsanuphius and John, Correspondance, 602 (SC 451:812) “Ὁ αὐτὸς ἀδελφὀς ἠρώτησε τὸν αὐτὸν Γέροντα· Οὐκ ὀφείλομεν οὖν ἀναγινώσκειν καὶ τὰ τοῦ Εὐαγριου; Ἀπόκρσις Ἰωάννου· “Τὰ μὲν δόγματαα τὰ τοιαῦτα, μὴ δέχοι, ἀναγίνωσκε δὲ αὐτοῦ, εἰ θέλεις, τὰ πρὸς ὠφέλειαν ψυχῆς, κατὰ τὴν σαγήνης, ὡς γέγραπται ὅτι «Τὰ μὲν καλὰ εἰς ἀγγεῖα ἔβαλον, τὰ δὲ σαπρὰ ἔξω ἔρριψαν.» Οὕτω καὶ σὺ ποίησον.”; trans. Chryssavgis, 183. 382 Barsanuphius and John, Correspondance, 602.2 (SC 451:812); trans. Chryssavgis, 183. 383 Barsanuphius and John, Correspondance, 603.9-15 (SC 451:814) “Ἐπειδὴ εἶπας καὶ ἐνεθυμήθης ὅτι Διὰ τί τινες τῶν Πατέρων δέχονται τὰ Γνωστικὰ Εὐαγρίου, τινὲς ἀδελφοί, ὡς γνωστικοί, δέχονται αὐτὰ καὶ οὐκ ἐδεήθησαν τοῦ Θεοῦ εἰ ἀληθῆ εἰσι. Καὶ ἀφῆκεν αὐτοὺς ὁ Θεὸς περὶ τούτου ἐν τῇ ἰδίᾳ αὐτῶν γνώσεί. Ἀλλ' ὅμως οὔτε ἐμόν ἐστιν οὔτε σὸν ταῦτα ζητεῖν, ἀλλ' ὁ καιρὸς ἡμῶν

194 What follows, in Letters 604 and 605, is a fascinating discussion about the reliability of the Fathers and teachers of the Church. They speak of when and why the teachers of the Church may be mistaken and conclude with this assurance: “So be calm, and commit yourself to God, ceasing from such idle talk and paying attention to your passions, about which you will be asked to give account on the day of judgment. For you will not be asked about these matters, why you do not understand them or why you have not learned them. Therefore, weep and mourn.”384 Letters 606 and 607 include a refutation of the Origenist position about which the monk continued to be concerned and conclude with a final exhortation to disregard the heresy and attend to the heart.

Barsanuphius and John's reaction to the question of Origenism stands in stark contrast to the tirade against Origenism in the Vita Cyriaci of the hagiographer Cyril of

Scythoplis. A mere question and the repetition of a quote are sufficient to drive Cyriacus into a lengthy exposition on the content of Origenism and its danger. But the Old Man, on the other hand, had to be pressed into giving an answer. In letter 606, he finally gave this telling consent to hear the speculative concerns of the troubled monk: “Since the devil wants to have you into such useless preoccupations, tell me what you want to say, and may God not grant him any room.”385 Thus, he proceeded with his refutation of the

Origenist position. Such is not the reply of one who fears Origenist usurpations. It is,

ἐστιν ἐρευσᾶν τὰ πάθη ἡμῶν, τοῦ κλαῦσαι καὶ τενθῆσαι.”; trans. Chryssavgis, 183. 384 Barsanuphius and John, Correspondance, 604.138-143 (SC 451:824) “Ἡσυχάσατε λοιπὸν καὶ σχολάσατε τῷ Θεῷ, καὶ παυσάμενοι τῆς ἀργολογίας, προσέχετε τοῖς πάθεσιν ὑμῶν περὶ ὧν ἀπαιτηθήσεσθε λόγον ἐν τῇ ἡμέρᾳ τῆς κρίσεως. Περὶ γάρ τούτων οὐκ ἀπαιτεῖσθε διὰ τί οὐκ οἴδατε ταῦτα ἢ ἐμάθετε ταῦτα. Κλαύσατε λοιπὸν καὶ πενθήσατε.”; trans. Chryssavgis, 187-8. 385 Ibid., 2.190.

195 rather, the reply of one who considers the entire discussion a mere distraction. It is important to note that this discussion is dated a little before 543,386 a time just before the

Origenist controversy reaches its climax in Palestine. Yet the Old Men do not see it necessary to volunteer a refutation to what Cyril of Scythopolis portrays as a great threat to the Church.

Lest the Old Men seem inconsistent in their reluctance and eventual acquiescence to answer our monk's inquiries, we should recall that, for Barsanuphius and John, theology is more than a merely intellectual activity divorced from the ascetic struggle.

Rather than attempting to denounce heresy at every opportunity, the Old Men seem to follow a procedure they advised in another set of letters. Letter 694 features the following question:

If I am sitting in the company of certain fathers, and they are discussing the faith of one of them, that perhaps he is not thinking correctly, should I participate in the conversation as well or not? For my thought tells me that if I am silent, I am betraying the faith. And if they are having a simple conversation about doctrinal matters, should I say what I happen to know or should I keep silent?387

Bearing in mind that the previous discussion involved one of the ‘brothers’, we should indeed expect to find some similarities between what is here advised and how the

Old Men dealt with the previous discussion. The response reads thus:

Never take part in conversations about the faith; for God will not demand this of you, but only whether you believe correctly what you have received from the holy church at the time of your baptism, and whether you keep his commandments. So maintain these things, and you shall be saved. Furthermore, it is not necessary to talk about doctrines; for this is beyond you. Instead pray to God for all your , and let your intellect spend time on these matters. See, however, that you do not condemn within your heart those

386 Ibid., Correspondance. SC 426, intro. 33. 387 Ibid., 2.248.

196 who do talk about doctrines; for you do not know whether they are speaking correctly or not; nor do you know how God will judge the matter. So, if you are asked, simply say: “These things are beyond me; forgive me, holy fathers.” 388

Barsanuphius responded in his pastoral capacity as a spiritual father, advising the brother in letter 600 to remember and mourn his own sins. The above response is completely consistent with letter 600 as a first step in the questioning. The response again advised the brother to keep silent, in his capacity as a brother, and recall for himself his own sins. Likewise, letter 695 advises the questioning monk to pray for those arguing for a heretical position and, through prayer rather than speech, to find humility.

Within the same set of letters, all of which concern the propriety of engaging in doctrinal discussion, Letter 699 presents a slightly different situation than that of letter

694.

Question: “If someone asks me to anathematize Nestorius and the heretics with him, should I do this or not?” Response.

The fact that Nestorius and those heretics who follow him are under anathema is clear. But you should never hasten to anathematize anyone at all. For one who regards himself as sinful should rather mourn over his sins, and do nothing else. Neither, however, should you judge those who anathematize someone; for one should always test oneself.389

One cannot fault the Old Men for inconsistency. Once more, the questioner is advised to avoid such discussions and to recall his own sins. But this letter leads to another, letter

700, which moves the discussion onto a different level and accordingly advises a different procedure.

Question: “But if someone happens to think, as a result of this, that I believe the

388 Ibid., 2.248-9. 389 Ibid., 2.251.

197 same as Nestorius, what should I tell him?” Response by John.

Tell him: “Although it is clear that those people were worthy of their anathema, nevertheless I am more sinful than every other person, and I fear that, in judging anyone else, I may actually condemn myself. For the Lord said: ‘If you love me, you will keep my commandments.’ And the Apostle says: ‘Let anyone be accursed [ἀνάθεμα] who has no love for the Lord.’ Therefore, one who does not keep his commandments does not love him; and whoever does not love him is under anathema. So, then, how can such a person [who is already under anathema] anathematize others?” Say these things in response; and if that person still persists in this, then for the sake of his conscience, anathematize the heretic.390

Thus, John presents his questioner with a principle: one is to avoid any sort of doctrinal discussion, even as regards those who have already been anathematized by an ecumenical council, except as it may be necessary to protect another.

The advised procedure, then, parallels that taken with the questioning monk of

Letters 600-607, with differences appropriate to the differing capacities of a spiritual father and an ordinary brother. In letter 600 we find a brother, having come upon the books of Origen, Didymus, and Evagrius, who is troubled by doctrines he finds therein and so seeks to engage Barsanuphius in a doctrinal discussion. Barsanuphius attempts to recall the monk’s mind to his own sins. Only when it becomes apparent that these questions must be answered to quiet the monk’s questioning heart do the Old Men address them. When they do speak, the Old Men say only what is necessary to return the monk to a remembrance of his duty to mourn.

The approach of the Old Men toward doctrinal discussion is, at its heart, both ascetic and pastoral. It is ascetic inasmuch as one is always advised to recall the importance of humility before entering upon theological disagreements “for God will not

390 Ibid.

198 demand this of you”. It is pastoral inasmuch as one may make a reply only for the sake of the conscience of another.

This, then, provides the key to understanding the doctrinal content within the final response of the Old Men. What we have is less a description of the sort of doctrinal positions that individuals in the sixth century actually hold, and more a description of the sort of beliefs that may be extracted from the works of Origen, Didymus, and Evagrius that the Old Men wish the brother to avoid. The shape of this Origenism bears a remarkable semblance to a template set by the likes of Epiphanius in the First Origenist

Controversy.

To further emphasize this point, we should turn briefly to the position described as

Origenism. The concerned monk cites a number of points as troubling. His first difficulty concerns the resurrected body. “On the subject of the resurrection of the saints' bodies, tell me whether they will rise in this body that we actually inhabit”.391 The alternative presented is a spiritual and immortal body which does not require food or drink. This, it is said, is the sort of body that the Origenists charge Jesus possessed after the resurrection.

The second difficulty is a quote from 1 Corinthians 15.28 which, it seems, is being used as an allusion to both and the apocatastasis. At any rate, the verse is preceded by the statement, “Again they say that the Apostle states about our Lord Jesus

Christ”.392 Since there is nothing heretical or troubling about quoting scripture, it seems safe to assume that the monks thinks the potential heretical reading of the verse is obvious. Barsanuphius' response is directed toward answering both of these possibilities.

391 Ibid. 2.190. 392 Ibid.

199 The third difficulty is familiar enough to speak of it as “their theory about pre- existence”.393 The fourth and final difficulty is the apocatastasis itself.394

The substance of these accusations follows much the same template used in an earlier age. This could well be the case if aggressive Origenists remained in the sixth century. But it must also be admitted that such would also be the case if the Letters show us rather a repetition of an old rhetorical construct. I should point out that this would parallel John Dechow's findings concerning the anti-Origenist anathemas in the works of

Justinian and the Fifth Ecumenical Council. While the evidence here might at first seem to support either position equally, the balance falls rather to the idea that we are presented with a construct with the added weight of two considerations. First, it should be recalled that Barsanuphius and John, in spite of their clear concern for the spiritual well being of the monk in question, did not seem to regard the supposed Origenists as a great enough threat to volunteer a refutation. The monk was forced to go to great lengths to elicit a response on the subject so troubling to him. Second, we must bear in mind that it is a set of texts, not individuals, who were at the core of his difficulties. Specific individuals were not named as being responsible for spreading Origenism, although there is a reference to others trying to convince the monk that Evagrius' texts were harmless. Yet there is no indication that anyone took the initiative to encourage this monk to seek the Evagrian texts himself. Regardless of whether there were such aggressive dogmatic Origenists in the sixth century to give encouragement, it remains that the doctrines described in the

Letters follow a template established in and for an earlier age. While this was sufficient

393 Ibid. 394 Ibid.

200 for Barsanuphius and John's purposes, the Letters cannot be relied upon as witnesses to the actual beliefs of any sixth-century Origenists.

Cyril of Scythopolis as a Source for Origenism

The works of Cyril of Scythopolis present a challenging aspect. Cyril remains our main source for the Second Origenist Controversy and, thus, his witness cannot be dismissed lightly. Cyril was an unusually skilled author who was able to fit all pieces of the sixth-century puzzle into a single, coherent picture. The consistency of his picture makes for a highly convincing narrative. But the unique position of the work of Cyril of

Scythopolis is also its most significant problem for an historian. For this source presents a picture almost too convenient for the hagiographer’s ends to reflect historical reality. If we are to take Cyril of Scythopolis at his word, then the great Christological debate of the age, a debate which would produce the most lasting and disastrous schism to date, must be overshadowed by a Palestinian quarrel over long rejected doctrines to which no one openly subscribed. Trusting Cyril’s testimony we must rechristen the Age of Justinian as the Age of Sabas, as Justinian becomes a tool of provincial partisans while Sabas appears as the century’s most significant agent. The story fulfills its author's purpose well, but the historian must approach this narrative more critically.

Brian Daley's important work on sixth-century Origenism has more recently been followed by the labors of Daniël Hombergen. Hombergen has questioned the historicity of the narratives of Cyril of Scythopolis quite successfully.395 Two points, in particular, are necessary for this work. First, Hombergen undermined the reliability of the Vita

395 See e.g. Hombergen, The Second Origenist Controversy, 323-28.

201 Cyriaci as a source for the beliefs of those accused of Origenism in the sixth century.

Second, he has effectively undermined Cyril’s general narrative. In place of Cyril’s narrative, Hombergen argues for a conflict over an Origenism that was little more than

Daley's Origenist “style of religious thinking”.396 We will be looking at a somewhat different aspect of the controversy as we examine how Origenism operated in Cyril's writings.

When scholars attempt to reconstruct the beliefs of sixth-century Origenists, the

Vita Cyriaci is often used as the chief cornerstone. In the Vita, Cyril tells of his mission to carry a letter from Abba John to Abba Cyriacus, “entreating him to strive now in intercession with God to quell the raging of Nonnus and Leontius and their party at the

New Laura, who were campaigning against Christ by means of the doctrines of

Origen.397” Having handed the letter to Cyriacus, and after receiving assurances that the

Origenists would be expelled from the New Laura, Cyril chances to ask Cyriacus,

“Father, what of the views they advocate? They themselves affirm that the doctrines of pre-existence and restoration are indifferent and without danger…”398 Cyriacus responds with his famous tirade, often cited as a source for the views of the sixth-century

Origenists.

‘The doctrines of pre-existence and restoration are not indifferent and without danger, but dangerous, harmful and blasphemous. In order to convince you, I shall try to expose their multifarious impiety in a few words. They deny that Christ is one of the Trinity. They say that our resurrection bodies pass to total destruction, [sic] and Christ’s first of all. They say that the holy Trinity did not create the

396 See supra, 6. 397 Cyril, 229.10-15; Price trans., 252. 398 Cyril, 229.30 “τί γάρ ἐστι, πάτερ, τὰ παρ' αὐτῶν πρεσβευόμενα; ἐπείπερ αὐτοὶ διαβεβαιοῦνται ὅτι τὰ περὶ προυτάρξεως καὶ ἀποκαταστάσεως δόγματα μέσα τυγχάνει καὶ ἀκίνδυνα”; trans. ibid.

202 world and that at the restoration all rational beings, even demons, will be able to create aeons. They say that our bodies will be raised ethereal and spherical at the resurrection, and they assert that even the body of the Lord was raised in this form. They say that we shall be equal to Christ at the restoration. What blurted out these doctrines? They have not learnt them from the God who spoke through the prophets and apostles—perish the thought—but they have revived these abominable and impious doctrines from Pythagoras and , from Origen, Evagrius, and Didymus.'399

As presented here, the Origenist heresy corresponds directly with Origenism as it had been attacked in the time of Epiphanius. We have pagan Greek intellectual pride, pre- existence of souls, the spiritual form of resurrection, the apocatastasis, and perhaps a hint at subordinationism. We have a young monk, Cyril himself, who came to an elder troubled by the Origenists' teachings and the claim that they are harmless. The whole scene has the feel of a monastic topos and the fact that Cyril is using the scene as a means to emphasize the orthodoxy of his own party only intensifies that impression.400

Of course, one might ask whether we would expect such a similarity in doctrine if the beliefs of contemporary Origenists were actually being described. The sources for the

Vita Cyriaci offer a response to this objection. In his work on Evagrius' Kephalaia

Gnostika, Antoine Guillaumont demonstrated how very close to the anathemas of the

399 Cyril, 229.30-230.10. “οὐ μέσα καὶ ἀκίνδυνον τὰ περὶ προυπάρξεως δόγματα, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐπικίνδυνα καὶ ἐπιβλαβῆ καὶ βλάσφημα. ἵνα δέ σε πληροφορήσω, ἐν ὀλίγαις λέξεσι τὴν πολυσχεδῆ αὐτῶν ἀσέβειαν στηλιτεῦσαι πειράσομαι. λέγουσι μὴ εἶναι ἕνα τῆς τριάδος τὸν Χριστόν· λέγουσι τά ἐξ ἀναστεως σώματα ἡμῶν εἰς παντελῆ ἀπώλειαν ἐλθεῖν καὶ Χριστοῦ πρώτου· λέγουσι ὅτι ἐν τῇ ἀποκαταστάσει, καὶ γὰρ τὸ τοῦ κυρίου οὕτω φασὶν ἐγηγέρθαι σῶμα· λέγουσιν ὅτι γινόμεθα ἴσοι τοῦ Χριστοῦ ἐν τῆι ἀποκαταστάσει.”; trans. ibid. “ποῖος τοίνυν ἅιδης ταῦτα ἐπεύξατο; οὐ παρὰ τοῦ θεοῦ ταῦτα μεμαθήκασι, μὴ γένοιτο, τοῦ λαλήσαντος διὰ προγητῶν καὶ ἀποστόλων, ἀλλὰ παρὰ Πυθαγόρου καὶ Πλάτωνος Ὠριγένους τε καὶ Εὐαγρίου καὶ Διδύμου παρειλὴφασι τὰ μυσαρὰ ταῦτα καὶ δυσσεβῆ δόγματα.”; trans. ibid. 400 See Hombergen, The Second Origenist Controversy, 286-7, for discussion of several ways in which the scene adds up to a topos.

203 Fifth Council the tirade of Cyriacus is. Given that Cyril probably began writing in 555401 and likely wrote the Vita Cyriaci in 557 or 558,402 the question of Cyril’s own sources for the content of Origenism becomes obvious. Thus Guillaumont says, “l’identité est telle, dans les termes memes, que l’on pourrait se demander si Cyrille n’a pas simplement résumé ici les anathématismes”. Yet, Guillaumont rejected this possibility on account of the proposition that rational beings will be able to create aeons.403 Richard M. Price also pointed out this difference.404 Because of this proposition, Guillaumont reckoned Cyril’s account as a testimony independent of the Council’s anathemas. This combination of the

Council’s anathemas and the independent account from Cyril would seem to confirm the ascription of the condemned doctrines to Origenists in the sixth century.

On this point, however, Hombergen differed from Guillaumont, arguing that

Guillaumont separates this proposition from the phrase “They say that the holy Trinity did not create the world”, even though the structure of the sentence would lead us to do otherwise.405 The statement is too categorical and founded upon the separation of that

“proposition” from the first part of Cyriacus’ charge. Because of this single deviation,

Guillaumont rejects the possibility that Cyril derived the series of charges from the fifteen anathemas of 553. However, the deviation is much smaller than Guillaumont suggests, and Cyril could well have been influenced by frequent oral discussions when he simplified and radicalized in a few words (ἐν ὀλίγαις λέξεσι) what everyone could read in

401 Ibid., xl. 402 Ibid., 269. 403 Guillaumont, Les "Képhalaia Gnostica,” 151. 404 Price, Lives of the Monks of Palestine, 260 note 10. 405 Hombergen, The Second Origenist Controversy, 275-6.

204 the official anathemas.406

Without doubt, such a proposition could be read into the points anathematized by the Council. For if all rational beings are to become equals of the single unfallen nous,

Christ, then equality in Christ’s ability to create the world is a mere extension of this principle. It was on this and like grounds that Hombergen could argue, “In any case, if the charges do not directly depend upon the anathemata, they at least derive from an allied document dating from the same period.”407 As much appeal as positing a redaction of the anathemas of the Council has, it is not strictly necessary in order to demonstrate the dependence of Cyril upon the Council. For Hombergen demonstrated the unlikelihood of

Cyril transcribing accurately Cyriacus’ speech, rather than placing in the mouth of the saint the contents of conciliar condemnations. Indeed, Cyril had every reason to do so, for thus not only would his saint represent the epitome of orthodoxy but he would even anticipate the findings of an Ecumenical Council. Such a literary move on Cyril’s part makes it almost seem as though the Fifth Council was endorsing Cyriacus’ position.

Furthermore, we also find that Cyril himself referred to the anathemas.408 That he knew them and did not use them under these circumstances is implausible. Finally, the close correspondence between the anathemas of 553 and the content of Cyriacus' tirade is demonstrable.409

Beyond these correspondences, the dialogue as a whole suffers, for historical purposes, from anachronism and derivation.

406 Ibid., 277. 407 Ibid., 269. 408 Ibid., 268-9. 409 Ibid., 270-84.

205 Cyril relates that, as a young monk around 544, he went to visit old Abba Cyriacus, who gave a tirade against the Origenists and formulated a series of theological charges. A close examination of the passage shows that Cyriacus cannot have delivered that discourse at the time claimed by Cyril. The charges derive from the 15 anathemata of 553 and the speech is full of parallels with other written texts.410

The likelihood that Cyril chose to portray Cyriacus giving a summary of the anathemas of the Fifth Council years before it took place is indeed far greater than the notion that Cyriacus should coincidentally state and Cyril accurately record and impartially report the same. The improbability of such a coincidence aside, to take the interaction between Cyriacus and Cyril as some sort of literal transcription would be to miss the point of such hagiography entirely. Cyril was not interested in presenting us with a record conforming to modern standards of historical documentation. Rather, he was providing his readers with materials he would consider far more useful: examples of monastic heroes to be emulated.411 It is a given for such a writer that the monastic hero, in addition to having extraordinary personal sanctity, should possess the fullness of the apostolic truth without requiring a council to spell it out for him.412

Whether the tirade derives directly from the anathemas of 553 or some redaction thereof, the essential point is that Cyril’s account does not exist independently of materials from the Fifth Council. As a result, we cannot count Cyril’s testimony as an independent source for the beliefs of sixth-century Origenists. Since the Council’s

Origenism is fashioned from the Kephalaia Gnostika, we are placed in a situation where

410 Ibid., "Cyril of Scythopolis and the Second Origenist Controversy," 42. 411 Ibid., The Second Origenist Controversy, 88-111. 412 Indeed, the function even of an ecumenical council was merely to reflect the faith which was once delivered unto the saints. A hagiographer like Cyril need have no sense of anachronism as his subject defends the faith, for the eternal verities of the faith are unchanging.

206 the sources for the details of sixth-century Origenism are compromised.

Origenism as Condemned

If Cyril indeed depended upon the Fifth Council for his description of Origenism, then one may still hope to find a description of sixth-century Origenist doctrines in the

Council anathemas or in an allied document such as the anathemas of Justinian's Edict against Origen of 543. However, such a hope is betrayed by the fact the anathemas cannot be regarded as an independent testimony for an Origenism native to the sixth century that was anything other than a rhetorical construct.

The Edict of 543, although it may well be argued that it does not describe the actual thinking of Origen, is directed against Origen and his works.413 Twenty-four fragments of the peri Archon appear within the Edict itself.414 The Edict of 543, rather than being an attack on a contemporary Origenism, is an attack on a constructed

Origenism based on the text of the peri Archon.415 This is precisely what we would expect if Origenism's primary function was polemical. Nevertheless, it is worthwhile to briefly consider Justinian's anathemas of 543. When looking at the anathemas themselves, as well as the document wherein they are found, one certainly finds the textual dependence upon the works of Origen as mentioned above. After all, Justinian cites the peri Archon numerous times, providing us with many pieces of the now lost Greek original. If this textual dependence is obvious enough, the question remains as to whether the assumptions Justinian uses in reviewing the text derive from an unbiased reading or a

413 Indeed, the title of the Edict is κατὰ Ὠριγένους τοῦ δυσσεβοῦς καὶ τῶν ἀνοσίων αὐτοῦ δογμάτων. 414 Hombergen, The Second Origenist Controversy, 23. 415 Louth, 1174.

207 preconceived notion of the nature of Origenism. Here, Andrew Louth's statement is most helpful:

This is not an attack on any form of Origenism contemporary with Justinian and Menas; it is rather an attack on Origen, focused on the work in which he expressly gives himself to speculation about matters not defined by apostolic tradition. The one place in the letter where Justinian can find no support in Origen's writings for the heresy he ascribes to him – when he discusses the notion that the resurrection body will be spherical –finds him railing against Origen in these terms: «O the folly and ignorance of this mad interpreter of Hellenic [=pagan Greek] doctrines!» The idea of a spherical body is just what such an addict of Hellenic learning would think! What this letter represents is an attack on what Christians already called the «outer learning», focused on the example of Origen himself. It does not, I suggest, have any clearly defined form of sixth-century Origenism in mind, for there very likely was none, or perhaps there were simply many[...]416

Louth's conclusions concerning the Edict of 543 fit well with what I have argued thus far.

But, if Justinian's attack derives not from any contemporary Origenism, as Louth argues, but retains its form in spite of whether or not justification for its accusations may be found in the text, from where does it derive? We have, I would suggest, already discovered the answer to this question. But an examination of Justinian's anathemas should make the matter abundantly clear.

While Justinian was certainly able to fill in the details based upon his reading of the peri Archon, the form of the accusations retains a strong similarity to the rhetorical construct we have already seen. One may, for example, find the pre-existence of the souls at the outset of the anathemas.

Whoever says or thinks that human souls pre-existed, i.e., that they had previously been spirits and holy powers, but that, satiated with the vision of God, they had turned to evil, and in this way the divine love in them had died out (ἀπψυγείσας) and they had therefore become souls (ψυχάς) and had been condemned to punishment in bodies, shall be anathema.417

416 Ibid. 417 ACO 3.213,13-15. “Εἴ τις λέγει ἢ ἔχει προυπάρχειν τὰς τῶν ἀνθρώπων ψυχὰς

208 Matters related to the pre-existence may be found also in anathemas 2, 3, 4, and 6.

Likewise, the incorporeality of the post-resurrectional body shows up in anathema 5. “If anyone says or thinks that, at the resurrection, human bodies will rise spherical in form and unlike our present form, let him be anathema.418”

The apocatastasis is condemned in the final anathema:

If anyone says or thinks that the punishment of demons and of impious men is only temporary, and will one day have an end, and that a restoration (ἀποκατάστασις) will take place of demons and of impious men, let him be anathema.419

Subordinationism is not mentioned directly in the anathemas, but is attacked early on and at length in the text of the Edict itself.420 Louth and others have given enough reason to doubt the reliability of the anathemas of 543 as a witness to the beliefs of those accused of Origenism. Origenism as a sixth-century commonplace would have guided Justinian's reading of the peri Archon as much as any other contemporary who wrote against

Origenism. In this, I share the view of John Dechow, who saw the work of Epiphanius as shaping the sixth-century anathemas:

οἷα πρώην νόας οὔσας καὶ ἁγίας δυνάμεις, κόρον δὲ λαβούσας τῆς θείας θεωρίας καὶ πρὸς τὸ χεῖρον τραπείσας καὶ διὰ τοῦτο ἀποψυγείσας μὲν τῆς τοῦ θεοῦ ἀγάπης, ἐντεῦθεν δὲ ψυχὰς ὀνομασθείσας καὶ τιμωρίας χάριν εἰς σώματα καταπεμφθείσας, ἀνάθεμα ἔστω.”; trans. Philip Schaff and Henry Wace, The Seven Ecumenical Councils, A Select library of Nicene and post-Nicene fathers of the Christian church. Second series. XIV (Grand Rapids, Mich., W. B. Eerdmans Pub. Co., 1952-57), 320. 418 Ibid., 25-6. “Εἴ τις λέγει ἢ ἔχει ἐν τῆι ἀναστάσει σφαιροειδῆ τὰ τῶν ἀνθρώπων ἐγείρεσθαι σώματα τῶν καὶ οὐχ ὁμολογεῖ ἡμᾶς ἐγείρεσθαι, ἀνάθεμα ἔστω.”; trans. ibid. 419 ACO 3.214,4-6. “Εἴ τις λέγει ἢ ἔχει πρόσκαιρον εἶναι τὴν τῶν δαιμόνων καὶ ἀσεβῶν ἀνθρώπων κόλασιν καὶ τέλος κατὰ τινα χρόνον αὐτὴν ἕξειν ἢ γοῦν ἀποκατάστασιν ἔσεσθει δαιμόνων ἢ ἀσεβῶν ἀνθρώπων, ἀνάθεμα ἔστω.” trans. ibid. 420 ACO 3, 190.1-10.

209 The aftermath of Epiphanius' Panarion 64 in the sixth century may be seen as a further development of its outline of criticism. The relationship of the heresiologist's summary of charges to Emperor Justinian's refutation of Origen in 543, especially the 10 anathemas against him, is like the relationship to Theophilus' polemic. Epiphanius' list as such is not adopted, but its major emphases are covered and continued, but with a Theophilan emphasis. A similar situation obtains, but with added anti-Evagrian features, in the case of the 15 anathemas attached to the letter addressed by the same Emperor to the fathers of the Fifth Ecumenical Council in 553.421

Of course, Justinian and the Fifth Council need not adopt “Epiphanius' list as such” for them to be drawing from a caricature of Origenism which had its roots in Epiphanius' time. Indeed, as we will see, the differences between the anathemas points rather to a common reliance upon a stereotyped image rather than a direct textual reliance upon a source such as the Panarion.

Careful comparison shows that the anathemata of 543 and those deriving from the

Fifth Council in 553 point to a different set of doctrines.422 The very fact that the two different sets of anathemas rely without any apparent sense of contradiction upon different texts from the past, and yet purport to condemn a single, contemporary heresy, strongly indicates that a contemporary group of Origenists neither held nor needed to hold 'Origenist' doctrines. But the problem is further compounded by the textual dependence of the anathemas of 553 upon the works of Evagrius.

It was Antoine Guillaumont who established the Fifth Council’s reliance upon the

Kephalaia Gnostika of Evagrius. And it remains that, “Guillaumont’s perspective is currently dominant.”423 In comparing the anathemas of the Fifth Council to the works of

421 John Dechow, Dogma and in Early Christianity: Epiphanius of Cyprus and the Legacy of Origen (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1988), 449. 422 Guillaumont, Les "Képhalaia Gnostica", 136-151. 423 Evagrius Ponticus, Evagrius Ponticus: Selections., ed. and trans. Augustine

210 Evagrius and other sources available from the period and before, Guillaumont concludes that the Origenism condemned in 553 was “essentiellement l’origénisme évagrien”.424 Of course, Guillaumont's work establishes the source matter for a sixth-century construction of Origenism, not necessarily the views of Evagrius himself. This is an important distinction to make, for otherwise it might seem as though we read Evagrius according to the hostile standards of sixth-century polemics.425 Of course there would be little reason

Casiday (New York: Routledge, 2006), 28. 424 “Ces multiples correspondances doctrinales et littérales obligent à conclure que Képhalaia gnostica d’Evagre sont la source principale des quinze anathématismes antiorigénistes de 553, et que l’origénisme qui fut condamné par les Pères du Ve Concile et était, comme l’histoire le montre, la doctrine des moines origénistes de Palestine est dû, au premier chef, à l’influence de l’œvre d’Evagre. Cette conclusion, qui repose sur la comparaison des texts, s’accorde pleinement avec les témoignages que nous avons vus : celui de Barsanuphe sur la lecture des Képhalaia gnostica parmi les moines de Palestine dans la première moitié du VIe siècle et sur les troubles qu’elle y provoquait, et celui de Cyrille de Scythopolis affirmant que c’est d’Evagre, tout comme d’Origène et de Didyme, que les moines origénistes tiraient leurs opinions «impies». Elle permet, d’autre part, de comprendre pourqoi, selon les nombreux témoignages énumérés ci-dessus, à commencer par celui du même Cyrille, les Pères du Ve Concile associèrent, dans leur condamnation, aux noms d’Origène et de Didyme celui d’Evagre, et ce n’est pas là l’effet d’un hasard inexplicable. Bien qu’il soit encore difficile de délimiter exactement la part d’Origène et celle de Didyme, on peut désormais affirmer que la part d’Evagre dans l’origénisme condamné en 553 est prépondérante et que celui- ce est essentiellement l’origénisme évagrien.” Guillaumont, Les "Képhalaia Gnostica", 158-9. 425 Thus Casiday says of Guillaumont, “Evagrius is supposed to have taught that, once creation has been reconciled to God, the qualitative differences between Christ and other rational beings will gradually disappear with the result that ultimately even will be equal to Christ (in Greek, isochristos). The heretical nub of this claim is that Christ is presumed to have been different to all other rational beings only insofar as the human soul of Christ is further along the spectrum of spiritual progress that all rational beings must inevitably make. Now the arguments in support of attributing this view to Evagrius are ingenious and Guillaumont has made an unarguably important discovery about where the Palestinian Origenists look for their inspiration. But it must be noted that this view relies on configuring Evagrius’ disconnected utterances in a specific way and (perhaps more troublingly) claiming that hostile

211 to suppose that the Second Origenist Controversy provides us with the best means to understand Evagrius. But that is not the essential point to be taken from Guillaumont. He is arguing that a certain text, the Kephalaia Gnostika of Evagrius, provides the source whence the ‘Origenists’ were drawing their opinions. Indeed it may be said, given the textual dependencies, that it is not a scholar of the twentieth century, Antoine

Guillaumont, but rather those living in the sixth century who so configured the disconnected utterances of Evagrius. Guillaumont merely discovered such a connection.

That both Justinian and the Fifth Council had to rely on centuries-old texts to construct an Origenism fit for condemnation is essential to understand. For, if we trust the testimony of Cyril of Scythopolis, we are presented with a most interesting situation.

Justinian’s 9 anathemas of 543 were taken from the works of Origen. The 15 anathemas of the Council were built primarily upon the Kephalaia Gnostika of Evagrius. Although the works of both were still read and inspired many, no one seems to have attempted to defend Origen and Evagrius. Although Cyril names supposed contemporary heretical

Origenists, no such heretics are mentioned in the anathemas. Indeed, Cyril’s own description of Origenism seems to have been derived from some redaction of materials from the Fifth Council and, thus, cannot be relied upon as independent attestation for the beliefs of the Origenists he so excoriated.

statements resolving the Second Origenist controversy provide the correct template for this reconfiguration. What justification have we for thinking that the later crisis provides us with the best pattern for Evagrius’ beliefs?” Casiday, Evagrius Ponticus: Selections, 28. I concur with Casiday's sentiments here. I would suggest, however, that Guillaumont has discovered not the beliefs of Palestinian Origenists so much as the beliefs of anti- Origenists about how Evagrius is read by Origenists. It was, in fact, earlier polemics which provided the template according to the later crisis would be constructed.

212 The claim that proponents of Origenism existed and were active in the sixth century must be made without any direct evidence of their beliefs, inasmuch as we lack genuinely pro-Origenist texts from the sixth century, even surviving as quoted fragments in adversarial refutations. On the other hand, the very dependence of the extant sources upon texts from the fourth and third centuries points less to a group of active and dogmatic partisans in the sixth century, than to the need for sixth-century partisans to construct such a group for its own ends.

Origenism's years as a pejorative have divorced it from any usefulness in describing a person who holds a particular theological position. The concrete, to use

George Orwell’s phrase,426 has melted into the abstract. We see the seeds sown by the

First Origenist Controversy bear fruit in the Second. Clark’s statement about Jerome may now be applied to several authors in the sixth century. “In the opening years of the fifth century, Jerome, exploiting his own extensive study of Origen as well as appropriating his predecessors’ arguments, manipulated the charge of Origenism to assail his personal enemies and to defend himself from accusations of heresy.”427

At the same time, however, there was a proportional increase in the value of

Origenism as a means of drawing symbolic boundaries. Its utility as a ‘devil word’ has increased. But while such “[e]nchanted words seem so full of meaning, so illuminating"428 they do not promote understanding. Indeed, such language has the

426 George Orwell, “Politics and the English Language”, in The Collected Essays, Journalism, & Letters, vol. 4, ed. Sonia Orwell and Ian Angus (Boston: Nonpareil Books, 2000), 129-30. 427 Clark, 85. 428 C. S. Lewis, The Collected Works of C.S. Lewis (New York: Inspirational Press, 1996), 474.

213 opposite effect. This sort of language has the sum effect of giving “an appearance of solidity to pure wind”.429 It may be employed to create or enhance symbolic boundaries which enable social actors to categorize people and practices in such a way that lines of in-group and out-group membership become inevitable.430

From Symbolic Boundaries to Social Boundaries

Cyril’s Lives presents readers with a ready made explanation of the conflicts leading up to the Second Council of Constantinople. Yet, as we have seen, the explanation rests upon a foundation of sand. If the meaning of Origenism shifts about in the sixth century, it is because the term serves chiefly as a pejorative used to delegitimate those at whom it is directed. If this is indeed the case, then we are left with a problem:

What purpose does it serve to condemn a heresiological phantom?

To answer this question, we must return to the circumstances which prompted our discussion of Origenism in the first place. Let us recall the situation which obtained in

Palestine following the removal of Peter the Tabbenesiot. Pelagius, the papal apocrisarius, had traveled to Constantinople with a group of Sabaite monks who had also obtained a condemnation of Origen from Ephraem of Antioch. These, in turn, managed to

429 Orwell, 139. 430 “Symbolic boundaries are conceptual distinctions made by social actors to categorize objects, people, practices, and even time and space. They are tools by which individuals and groups struggle over and come to agree upon definitions of reality. Examining them allows us to capture the dynamic dimensions of social relations, as groups compete in the production, diffusion, and institutionalization of alternative systems and principles of classifications. Symbolic boundaries also separate people into groups and generate feelings of similarity and group membership (Epstein 1992, p. 232). They are an essential medium through which people acquire status and monopolize resources.” Lamont and Molnár, 168.

214 secure a condemnation of Origen from Justinian. This caused a reaction in Palestine as

Nonnus, leader of what Cyril of Scythopolis portrays as an Origenist faction in the

Sabaite monasteries, sought to secure a condemnation of Ephraem by the Patriarch Peter of Jerusalem. With this situation in mind, we can now look at each social actor and discover how the actions of each become perfectly comprehensible within the context we have established in this chapter.

Internal Conflict in Palestine

First, we should look briefly at the internal politics of Palestinian monasticism.

Following Cyril's narrative, it seems safe to say that conflict was a frequent occurrence among the Palestinian monks. This, Price suggests, was a natural consequence of diversity one might expect in the laurite life.431 But despite all the conflict, being even forced to flee the monasteries at times, Sabas, if we follow Cyril, was ultimately able to hold everything together.

While our all-praiseworthy father Sabas was still in the flesh, there was one confession of faith in all the monasteries of the desert, and one could see all the children of Jerusalem walking in the house of God in concord, upholding in harmony the inviolable and irrefragable character of the divine doctrines, so as to fulfil the scriptural saying, ‘Life up your eyes round about; and behold, your children are gathered together.’432

After Sabas's death in 532,433 however, factional infighting among the monks of his community became more intense. The faction of Nonnus, centered at the New Laura, was naturally in the ascendancy, a fact that we might expect even if Cyril did not assure us that it was the case.434 The connection to the court provided by Leontius and father

431 Price, Lives of the Monks of Palestine, xix. 432 Cyril, 188,6-13. 433 Ibid.,, 183. 434 Ibid.,, 188,15.

215 Eusebius, the eventual patron of Theodore Askidas and Domitian, would have ensured their importance. When Gelasius took charge of the Great Laura in 537 he expelled as many of forty of Nonnus's allies.435 It is little surprise, therefore, that Nonnus would use his court connections to restore members of his faction. Thus we find the following when father Eusebius was in Palestine on account of the mission sent to replace the Patriarch of

Alexandria:

When father Eusebius came to Jerusalem after the dissolution of the council, Leontius presented him those expelled from the Great Laura, who accused Gelasius of dividing the community into two halves and of expelling them while currying the favor with their opponents. Father Eusebius, misled by Leontius' words and knowing nothing of their heresy, sent for Abba Gelasius and, in an attempt to resolve the dispute, pressed him either to receive back those expelled or to expel their opponents.436

It is perfectly natural that those expelled would head off to Ephraem in Antioch, for they could expect to receive little hearing so long as Leontius and Eusebius were able to make their presence felt in Jerusalem. But the strategy used by these expelled monks is absolutely key to understand the succession of events which would quickly follow. We find this in a passage we have already seen, but which now takes on a whole new light.

In the face of such pressure the fathers, after deliberation, sent out of the laura Stephen, Timothy, and four others of the brethren, who, putting up with their voluntary exile, went off to Antioch, where they informed Patriarch Ephraem of what had happened and showed him the work of blessed Antipatrus. The patriarch, reading the blasphemies of Origen in the work given him, and learning from those who gave it of the actions of the Origenists at Jerusalem, was stirred to courageous action, and by public anathema of synodical authority condemned the doctrines of Origen.437

It is very telling that these Sabaite monks, in order to oppose their contemporary enemies

435 Ibid.,, 189-90. 436 Ibid.,, 191. 437 Ibid.,, 191.

216 in Palestine, brought as evidence to Ephraem the writings of Antipatrus, a fifth-century author who wrote against an early fourth-century defense of the third-century Origen. For this is precisely what we would expect, given the function of Origenism we have seen thus far. By labeling their enemies as Origenists, these Sabaite monks have a reasonable hope of excluding them from access to the monasteries. Such power derives naturally as a symbolic boundary between Origenists, on the one hand, and orthodox Christians, on the other, is widely agreed upon. At this point, established symbolic boundaries become objectified social boundaries.438

The Interests of Pelagius

This all makes sense for Sabaite monks attempting to restore their access to the monasteries they have abandoned, but it is not obvious from that fact alone why any of this should be anything other than an internal Palestinian conflict. But we must recall what we have already seen in earlier chapters: one must always bear in mind the differing interests and motivations of social actors embedded within larger networks. The papal apocrisarius Pelagius had every reason to become involved with this Origenist controversy and, according to Liberatus, it was he who brought the matter to court.

But after Pelagius returned to Constantinople, certain monks from Jerusalem, through whom Pelagius had passage in Gaza, came with him in accompaniment,

438 “Social boundaries are objectified forms of social differences manifested in unequal access to and unequal distribution of resources (material and nonmaterial) and social opportunities. They are also revealed in stable behavioral patterns of association, as manifested in connubiality and commensality. Only when symbolic boundaries are widely agreed upon can they take on a constraining character and pattern social interaction in important ways. Moreover, only then can they become social boundaries, i.e., translate, for instance, into identifiable patterns of social exclusion [...]” Lamont and Molnár (2002), 168-9.

217 bearing chapters extracted from the books of Origen, desiring to deliver them to the Emperor, that Origen might be condemned with those chapters.439

Again, it is noteworthy that the focus here is on writings “extracted from the books of

Origen”, not on any contemporary writings. Pelagius was clearly happy to rely on the symbolic resource Origenism had to offer. But to find out to what end, we should recall the motive Liberatus ascribes to Pelagius which we discussed above.440 As Liberatus would have it, Pelagius's chief motivation was that he was a rival of Theodore Askidas

“for the reason that [Theodore] was a defender of Origen”.441 Up to this point, Liberatus does not portray Pelagius as having in particular interest in Origen one way or another.

But given Pelagius's dual role as one representing the interests of the pope on the one hand and seeking favor at court on the other, a rivalry with Theodore makes perfect sense. Theodore entered court and attained his bishopric due to his connection to

Leontius. Leontius had long been an advocate of detente with the anti-Chalcedonians.

Theodore would also prove supportive of the court's efforts to this end. But the pursuit of some form of detente had strained relations between Rome and Constantinople since the end of the Acacian schism and, of course, long before. Rome had never been happy with

Constantinople's desire to overlook the matter of the diptychs, it was not easily pleased with theopaschism, and pope Agapetus had certainly showed his dissatisfaction with the court's efforts upon his arrival in Constantinople. Only a hard-line Chalcedonianism on the part of the court would serve Rome's purposes. For Pelagius, a policy which could be used against the friends of Theodore Askidas, and perhaps even against Askidas himself,

439 ACO 2.5, 139. 440 See supra, 177. 441 ACO 2.5, 140.

218 would fit his needs exactly.

Of course, it is likely that the monks claimed Nonnus and even Askidas were actually card-carrying Origenists. Whether Pelagius himself believed this, however, is immaterial. Origenism had already demonstrated its power as a label which could be employed effectively to marginalize certain targets. He had in his company a group of monks perfectly willing to make the accusation, and thereby regain their place in

Palestine. He had the backing of Ephraem of Antioch. These factors alone might have encouraged him to move against Askidas and hope to marginalize those who had so long advocated detente with the anti-Chalcedonians. But one final factor ensured that the controversy weary court would endorse a condemnation directed against these so-called

Origenists.

The Court’s Interests

With the exiles in league with a papal apocrisarius securing a condemnation in

Antioch that would be used against him and his allies, Nonnus must have seen the situation as rather desperate. If both Antioch and Rome were involved in moving against a group of Palestinian monks, it would be only a matter of time before the issue was taken to Constantinople. Following Cyril's narrative, Nonnus decided the only option was to try and undercut Ephraem. Nonnus hoped to convince Patriarch Peter of Jerusalem to remove Ephraem from the diptychs.442 If this were done, at least the two sides in this

Palestinian monastic controversy would be on more equal footing when the issue was inevitably taken up by a Constantinopolitan synod. Nonnus might have done better,

442 See the passage quoted supra pg. 180.

219 however, to have secured a condemnation of the exiled monks. For Peter, hearing

Nonnus' request, clearly realized the danger in such a plan. He could not afford to have a large and influential monastery in his neighborhood picking fights with Antioch and upsetting the new and fragile unity which the emperor had achieved within the church. In

Cyril, Peter's response to this potential crisis is a masterful example of creating a paper trail to cover him in the case of any potential accusation. He secretly arranges for the heads of the anti-Origenist faction, Sophronius and Gelasius, to write a petition to him against the Origenists and include an entreaty not to act against Ephraem. This document was then sent to the court along with Peter's personal complaint against the Origenists.443

For the court, condemning the Origenists would have been an open and shut case, even if there were no theological substance behind the complaints. A combined request from the papal representative and the patriarchs of Antioch and Jerusalem would have been enough. But the rather tone-deaf attempt of Nonnus to create a formal division between Jerusalem and Antioch was intolerable. A condemnation had to follow quickly, and any theological justification would do.444 Besides, Origenism had so long been a theological bugbear that condemning through an imperial edict, especially after being petitioned by a sizable fraction of the Pentarchy to defend the church from this threat, can only have set a positive precedent in the eyes of the court.

443 Ibid. 444 Of course this claim fits neatly with the different descriptions of Origenism we might construct out of the variety of condemnations that would ensue. What Origenism was did not particularly matter. What mattered was that this group of monks had to be marginalized.

220 Askidas's Sensible Response

At this point, we might be left to wonder why the influential allies of the

Palestinian Origenists did not act. The status of each in this case confirms the importance of competing networks of agents within a system of social competition. It seems likely from Cyril's account that Leontius and father Eusebius had only just died before the promulgation of the edict.445 Pelagius would have acted just when the most important friends of the supposed Origenists were out of the picture.

Cyril says Nonnus made his move against Ephraem “in alliance with Leontius of

Byzantium, who had sailed back to Constantinople, Domitian of Galatia, and Theodore of

Cappadocia”.446 This is a somewhat ambiguous claim and one could read it to mean that

Domitian and Theodore were in Palestine supporting Nonnus's actions. It seems likely, given the larger context, that this was not the case. I would argue that Nonnus's desperation was spurred in part by the absence of his well-connected allies and need to act quickly in face of impending disaster. For in Cyril's account, when the edict is issued in Constantinople, Domitian and Theodore are forced to sign, apparently in the sight of the Patriarch Menas and others present.

Under these circumstances, Theodore Askidas reads the situation brilliantly and acts to ensure that his influence is maintained and even increased after the death of his patrons in Constantinople and the marginalization of his friends in Palestine. He does this not just by signing off on the condemnation of Origen, but even leveraging it to guarantee both the continuation of a policy of detente with the anti-Chalcedonians and his

445 Cyril, 192. 446 Cyril, 191,21.

221 increasing personal influence at court. But to see how this is so, one must appreciate his situation at the time of the condemnation of Origen and recall the revenge plot thesis of how the Three Chapters came to be condemned.

The actions of Nonnus, as we have seen, were desperate and almost certainly doomed to failure. His position had become indefensible. Theodore, therefore, did not attempt to defend it; the condemnation of Origen was a fait accompli. He moved instead to make his own position as a close adviser to the emperor unassailable, taking the place once held by Leontius of Byzantium.

Let us recall that Evagrius Scholasticus, Liberatus and a tradition of scholarship going back to Diekamp would have us believe Theodore Askidas's actions were those of an only ostensibly Chalcedonian, secretly Origenist, conspirator, bent on getting revenge because his hero, Origen, had been condemned, and attempting to secure his revenge by manipulating the emperor into condemning Theodore of Mopsuestia who had written against his hero in ages long past. As John Behr indicates, this account seems improbable if for no other reason than the fact that the Three Chapters whose condemnation Askidas sought extended beyond the anti-Origenist Theodore of Mopsuestia.447 But, to offer a positive explanation of Askidas's actions, there is one feature of the condemnation of

Origen which Askidas could exploit to get the emperor back on the right track and ensure

Askidas's influence did not falter on account of the unhelpful Pelagius.

447 “The inclusion of Theodoret and Ibas strongly indicates that it was not simply an act of revenge for the condemnation of Origen instigated by Theodore Askidas, as Cyril asserts, but that the concerns expressed by the miaphysites over the previous decade had indeed been heard, as Liberatus also suggests.” Behr, The Case Against Diodore and Theodore, 116.

222 ut mortui damnarentur

If we recall the Colloquium of 532, which Leontius, the patron of Askidas, attended, one feature of Askidas's Origenist conspiracy theory becomes immediately problematic. A condemnation like that against the Three Chapters had already been floated—indeed by the emperor himself—more than a decade before it was actually promulgated.448 This was offered as a solution at a point when the relationship between

Chalcedonian and anti-Chalcedonian was arguably at its most hopeful. The anti-

Chalcedonian demurred at the Colloquium, offering as explanation their lack of authority to rule or offer a concrete response on such matters. Still, it had been made clear that the

Three Chapters were a stumbling-block for many to accepting Chalcedon.

To condemn the Three Chapters, however, would be a dangerous prospect.

Despite their sometimes troubled history, they had died at peace with the church. To condemn someone who had so gone to his rest would smack of novelty, of judging differently and even contrary to how the church had once judged. Such novelty was, quite literally, anathema to the Byzantine mind. Without clear and significant support from all quarters of the Chalcedonian church, the court would hardly have attempted this as means of encouraging detente with the anti-Chalcedonians. The condemnation of the dead had been regarded as inadvisable in the past, and that even in connection to Theodore of

Mopsuestia. An account by Richard Price offers these striking examples:

[A]ll sides in the controversy appealed to the emperor Theodosius II. Cyril

448 One also finds Thedoret, Theodore of Mopsuestia, and Diodore associated with Nestorian heresy in earlier imperial documents. A law created in 520 under strongly implies that the three held heretical views and were not to be emulated, although it does not outright condemn them. See CN 981, Document 559 (M 9. 364-5).

223 severely criticized the stance of the Syrian bishops and urged the emperor to steer well clear of the heresy of Diodore and Theodore, while the Syrians reminded the emperor that both he and his grandfather Theodosius I had expressed admiration for Theodore as a teacher. Theodosius’ response was to insist on a restoration of peace to the churches. In a reply to the Syrians he added, ‘What could be more useful than that you resolve together with the whole church that no one should presume in future to do anything of the kind against those who died in her peace?” An embarrassed Proclus now wrote to John of Antioch, protesting that, despite his concern over the 'anonymous' heretical excerpts, he had no wish to see Theodore or any other deceased person condemned by name.449

It is worth noting that Askidas was certainly aware of this letter of Proclus, at least by the

Council of 553, since he treats it as a forgery.450 It would not be a great stretch if one were to suggest he may have already been aware of the problem at an earlier time.

A similar case was raised by Justin I in one of his letters to Hormidas concerning the matter of the diptychs.451 Justin warns Hormisdas that if they were asked to remove past bishops from the diptychs, many of the clergy and laity would “count life harsher than death, if they shall have condemned the dead, in whose life, when alive, they used to glory.”452 The risks of condemning the dead would have been clear long before the condemnation of the Three Chapters became policy.

Indeed, once the policy was implemented, the issue of condemning the dead would be a chief complaint among the condemnation's detractors. In Evagrius

Scholasticus's narrative, the issue is the first raised when the condemnation of the Three

Chapters is proposed by Theodore Askidas. The fact that Eutychius had an immediate

449 Richard Price, Chalcedon in Context: Church Councils 400-700 (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2009), 126. 450 Ibid. 127. 451 As we saw back in the first chapter, it is likely that Justinian had a hand in composing these letters, if he did not compose them himself. 452 CA, Letter 232; CN, 984.

224 answer to the problem instantly places him in Justinian's good graces.

Now when a first question was raised as to whether it was right for the dead to be encompassed by anathemas, Eutychius was present. He was trained to the highest degree in sacred scripture though, while Menas was still alive, he was not one of the more prominent: for he was serving as apocrisarius to the bishop of Amasea. He looked at the gathering not only with self-confidence but also contempt, and clearly stated that this did not require any consideration, for Josiah the king had long ago not only slain the living priests of the demons, but had also dug up the tombs of those who had long been dead. This seemed to everyone to have been spoken appositely. When Justinian heard this, he raised him to the throne of the royal city immediately after Menas’ death.453

When the North African detractor, Fulgentius Ferrandus, wrote to Pelagius and Anatolius of Rome in defense of the Three Chapters, he concluded by offering these principles:

May therefore your beatitude deign to note with attention the following three rules, communicated in the sequence and expression within our power, and, if you approve our humble urging, to observe them: that no revision of the Council of Chalcedon or of similar councils is to be approved, but what has once been decreed is to be kept intact; that no occasions of offence are to be created among the living over brethren who are deceased; and that no one is to wish through numerous subscriptions to claim for his own book an authority that the catholic church has attributed only to the canonical books.454

Likewise, Vigilius raised the matter of condemning the dead in his first Constitutum, as one part of the larger defense of the Three Chapters he offers in that document.455

Of course, condemnation of the dead was also raised at the Council of 553. In

Evagrius's account, Justinian asks the council about the writings of the Three Chapters.

453 EH, 4.38. 454 Price, Council of Constantinople of 553, 2.120-121. 455 “All this we investigated with care; and that our fathers, albeit in varying modes of expression yet discoursing with a single current of understanding, preserved unharmed the persons of priests who had died in the peace of the church, and that, as we said above, the same was defined canonically by decrees of the apostolic see, namely that no one is permitted to pronounce any new judgement on the persons of the deceased but that they are to be left exactly as the last day found each one [...]” Price, Council of Constantinople of 553, 1.120-121.

225 Their response shows it was not only the status of the texts at stake, but the principle of anathematizing the dead was as well.

After many writings of Theodore and Theodoret had been read, and it had been demonstrated that long ago even Theodore had been condemned and erased from the sacred diptychs, and that heretics ought to be condemned even after their death, they anathematized Theodore nem. con., as it is said, and the pronouncements of Theodoret against the Twelve Chapters of Cyril and the correct faith, and the letter of Ibas to Maris the Persian [...]456

In the end, of course, this council called to condemn the Three Chapters does precisely that, speaking “acclamations and anathemas against Theodore (as if living and present)”.457

Two final instances of this issue deserve mention. First, a rather mysterious line appears in the Edict on the True Faith in 551. In the Edict, Justinian sought to defend the posthumous condemnation of Theodore of Mopsuestia. After giving several reasons for doing so, Justinian says the following:

So if there is anyone who would maintain that it is not right to anathematize Theodore after his death, then the defender of such a heretic should be informed that justice demands that every heretic persisting in his error even to his death be subjected to eternal anathema even if he has already died. This has been done to heretics from times past as well as recently: for example, Valentinus, Basilides, Marcion, Cerinthus, Manichaeus, Eunomius, and Bonosus.458

The mysterious part of this excerpt is the line, “This has been done to heretics from times past as well as recently”. The heretics who follow, however, are all clearly in the category of 'from times past'. Here, then, it is reasonable to conclude that this is an

456 EH, 4.187-8. 457 Price, Council of Constantinople of 553, 2.112. Emphasis mine. 458 Wesche, 191; ACO 3, 102.16-20. “Εἰ δὲ λέγουσί τινες μὴ δεῖν Θεόδωρον μετὰ θάνατον ἀναθεματίζεσθαι, ἴστωσαν οἱ τὸν τοιοῦτον αἱρετικὸν ἐδικοῦντες ὡς πᾶς αἱρετικὸς μέχρι τέλους τῆι οἰκείαι πλάνηι ἐμμείνας δικαιότερον διηνεκεῖ ἀναθεματισμῶι καὶ τοῖς ἐγγυτέρω, τουτέστιν Βαλεντίνωι Μαρκίωνι Κηρίνθωι Μανιχαίωι Εὐνομίωι καὶ Βονόσωι·”

226 allusion to the recent Imperial condemnation of Origen, for there is no other known heretic who can fit the description of being a recent posthumous condemnation. One might expect that we would find similar language in the Edict Against the Three Chapters itself, but unfortunately that Edict is lost to us.

Second, the notion that the function of the Edict Against Origen was to create a precedent for the condemnation of the Three Chapters is reinforced by a letter written by

Pelagius, who had become Pope by the time of writing, to the bishops of Istria. The

Istrian bishops had separated from Rome on account of the condemnation of the Three

Chapters. Pelagius, attempting to convince them of the justice of the posthumous condemnation, writes thus:

What, therefore, stands in the way, if, so long as he was hidden with regard to his error and hitherto it was doubtful, he was praised by one father, and his faithlessness having become known later, he is pierced through by the judgments of nearly all the fathers, just as a giant beast is pierced through, as it were, by increasing numbers of darts? Or have we not sometimes found the bad praised by the good nor yet defended by the same praises? For who can be discovered among heresiarchs worse than Origen and who among the writers of history more honorable than Eusebius? And who of us does not know in how many of his own books that Eusebius extols Origen with praises? But because the holy Church considers the heart of his faith more merciful than his words severe, it also condemned more in the heretical [teachings] of [Origen's] own thought than could be acquitted by the witness of Eusebius. Or does not also Gregory, bishop of the city of Nyssa, when he explains the Song of Songs, as is wont to be found in a good many books, present Origen with great praises?459

459 ACO 4.2, 131. “quid itaque obstat, si dum de eius errore occultum adhuc et dubium fuit, ab uno patre laudatus est, et innotescente post perfidia, paene omnium magnorum patrum sententiis uelut inmanis bestia quasi crebrescentibus iaculis est confossus? An non et malos a bonis aliquando laudatos nouimus nec tamen eisdem laudibus defensos? Quid namque in haeresiachis Origene deterius, et quid in historiographis inueniri Eusebio honorabilius potest? Et quis nostrum nesciat in libris suis quantis Origenem Eusebius praeconiis adtollat? Sed quia sancta ecclesia suorum fidelium corda benignius quam uerba districtius pensat, et plus in haereticis sensum proprium quam testio Eusebii absoluere potuit, nec rursus Eusebium

227 Thus we find Pelagius using the condemnation of Origen in precisely the manner described above. What makes this particularly interesting, however, when we recall the notion that it was Pelagius who had suggested the condemnation of Origen to Justinian in the first place.

Seeing, therefore, that the condemnation of the dead both was and would be a contested issue, we may now appreciate the position of Theodore Askidas. Pelagius's move against his allies could have removed him entirely from influence, as it had Nonnus and his followers in Palestine. Askidas revealed himself too shrewd to be so entrapped.

One might recall that our sources place the blame for the Three Chapters controversy on

Askidas's shoulders, averring that he did this to get revenge on Origen's detractors. A simpler explanation now presents itself. Since Theodore was in a position to recognize that the condemnation of Origen was inevitable (for reasons we discussed above), he chose rather to endorse it and leverage it, increase his own influence, and keep the possibility of detente with the anti-Chalcedonians open. The condemnation of Origen, as we have said, had an important feature in common with the condemnation of the Three

Chapters. Like the Three Chapters, “the deceased Origen was condemned who was formerly alive before he was condemned.”460 Origen was, in many ways, the perfect precedent for the condemnation of the Three Chapters. As we have already seen, he had become an heresiological hobgoblin. By suggesting Origenism could act as a stalking horse and a precedent for the condemnation of the Three Chapters, Askidas could ensure

laudati Origenis culpa damnavit. An non et Gregorius Nysae urbis episcopus cum canticorum canticum exponit, sicut inueniri in plerisque codicibus solet, magnis Origenem laudibus praefert?” 460 “Origenes damnatus est mortuus, qui vivens olim fuerat ante damnatus.” ACO 2.5, 140.11-12.

228 Justinian's continuing favor, just as we saw Eutychius gain favor above.

Several factors come together to support this notion. First, it is clear from the acts of the Council of 553 that Askidas himself would later become a major force pushing for the condemnation of the dead. His dedication to arguing for the emperor's consensus and his prominence was even sufficient to earn him the ire and excommunication of Vigilius.

Much of Askidas's activity at the council was directed toward source critical questions, largely in terms of rejecting sources which could be used to undermine the consensus the council was called to establish. He employed these tools to attack the authenticity of any authority which might be used to argue against condemnation of the dead, including the letter of Proclus alluded to above.461 He even went so far as to cite the condemnation of

Origen as a precedent for condemning the dead, charging that those present had been perfectly willing to go along in that instance.

And we find indeed many others who were anathematized after death, including also Origen: if one goes back to the time of Theophilus of holy memory or even earlier, one will find him anathematized after death. This has been done even now in his regard by your holinesses and by Vigilius the most religious pope of Elder Rome.462

Thus we can say with certainty that Askidas was capable of making this connection, and indeed that he did. Of course, it does not follow from this fact that he suggested the connection to the emperor in 543, but it does make such an event more plausible. Here we must turn to Facundus of Hermiane, one of the defenders of the Three

Chapters.

461 Theodore also attacks a letter attributed to Cyril of Alexandria which held “that Theodore should not be reviled because he was already deceased [...]” and that “[...] it is a serious matter to revile the dead”. Price, Council of Constantinople of 553, 1.325. 462 Price, Council of Constantinople of 553, 1.338.

229 For the holy brother, Abba Felix, among the very many other evils which he wrote to us about that man, even reported this: that he had become a friend to Theodore of Cappadocia and he often showed him to the emperor since he furnished for him certain chapters for the postmortem condemnation of those who died in the peace of the church.463

One finds in Askidas a pattern of behavior. He acts as a scholar, or even a legal researcher, seeking the grounds to justify the emperor's policy and thereby ensuring his influence at court. Thus we find Cyril of Scythopolis complaining that Askidas

“controlled the palace” in the immediate wake of the condemnation of Origen which ostensibly should have decreased his influence.464 Askidas is pictured as even being able to lean on Peter of Jerusalem, forcing him to accept chancellors of Askidas's choosing, and to intimidate Peter enough that he was willing to strike a deal with Nonnus and his exiled allies.465 This quick reversal of fortune is not adequately explained by Cyril, who tends to pass over the affair of the Three Chapters in an almost embarrassed silence. But it does fit neatly into context where Askidas is happily using the recent condemnation of

Origen to his own benefit.

Liberatus, who appears to have lost little love on Origen, did not particularly blame Pelagius for his actions. This is, one will recall, one of the authors who portray

Askidas as the author of an Origenist revenge plot. If the foregoing explanation of

463 “Nam sanctus frater abba Felix, inter alia mala quamplurima quae nobis de illo scripsit, etiam hoc retulit, quod amicus fuerit Theodoro Cappadoci et eum saepius praesentauerit imperatori, quia capitula ei quaedam subministrauit pro damnandis post mortem in Ecclesiae pace defunctis. Sed et Carthagine similiter, ut aduertimus, astruebat quod praedictus Mopsuestenus Theodorus iuste ac regulariter post mortem fuerit condemnatus.” Facundus of Hermiane, Contra Mocianum, J. M. Clement, ed. in Facundus Hermianensis: Opera Omnia. CCSL 90A (Turnhout: Brepols, 1974), 6. 464 Cyril, 192,21. 465 Cyril, 193.

230 Askidas's actions is correct, it makes better sense of these closing remarks from Liberatus than does his own narrative:

I believe this clear to everyone: through the deacon Pelagius and Theodore, bishop of Caesarea Cappadocia, this scandal has come into the church. For even Theodore himself publicly proclaimed he and Pelagius, through whom this scandal came into the world, ought to be burned alive.466

Conclusion

With this context in mind, Justinian's actions become coherent. He was not the mindless victim of an embittered Origenist conspiracy against Theodore of Mopsuestia.

Neither was he without solid and wholly compatible reasons to condemn Origen. If he is understood within the social landscape he actually operated in, he acted rationally and consistently to ensure that the imperial church remain a Chalcedonian church, while always seeking an effective means of detente with the anti-Chalcedonians. But unity, like all social goods, can only be secured through persons. Divergent interests proved too much for the fragile coalition Justinian had assembled. Networks and individuals competing for legitimacy and dominance means that Justinian's efforts to achieve unity continually shifted the grounds on which the competition would occur. The condemnation of Origen was promoted by a papal representative seeking the marginalization of those who seemed likely to compromise Chalcedon. It was effected as part of an effort to thwart possible tension between Jerusalem and Antioch. It was supported by a court advisor who wished to secure his own position and provide a means of defending the condemnation of the Three Chapters and a policy of detente. But this was a policy formulated in the East to answer Eastern problems. Without ever achieving buy-in from

466 ACO 2.5, 141.7-11.

231 the West, the condemnation of the Three Chapters was a policy doomed to failure from its inception. As we will see in the epilogue, it represents a watershed moment in Justinianic religious policy. Henceforth, the court will be forced to engage in damage control, forsaking any real hope of unity with the anti-Chalcedonians.

232 Conclusion

The period stretching from the beginning of Justin's reign to the inception of the Three

Chapters Controversy is not the happiest in ecclesiastical history. Even if we were to take for granted that all the parties who claimed to seek a common understanding in the church were speaking in good faith, the emperor's efforts in the sixth-century context seems doomed. Chapter one established that it was possible for the Chalcedonian court to make peace, but that only with the Chalcedonian patriarch of Rome. Chapter two demonstrated how even that peace could be threatened and nearly destroyed by the activity of an agent whose formal role was seemingly minor. Chapter three revealed that even in the midst of promising discussions held in Constantinople, the symbolic boundaries between Chalcedonian and anti-Chalcedonian could not be negotiated away without threatening the legitimacy of either faction. Chapter four showed that even within the now consolidated Chalcedonian church, the contrasting interests of relatively minor actors could have an impact on ecclesiastical politics throughout the empire.

In such a context, the emperor is not wholly powerless. He has informal influence of his own, as well as formal and legal authority. He can force bishops from their sees or monks from their monasteries, and can patronize his favorites with imperial largess. In the end, an individual with an army and a tax base will have an impact on events. But he cannot act as some world-historical figure, determining the course of affairs by the force of his intellect, acumen, will or ruthlessness. Justinian had all these in spades, but even he was unable to effect the desired unity. He stood at the top of a vast imperial, military, and ecclesiastical bureaucracy, but by that very fact he depended upon the actors within those systems for his power. The individual interests of individual people—whether Justinian,

233 Vitalian, Dioscorus, Leontius, Eusebius, Theodore Askidas, or Pelagius—within complex networks must always be accounted for to give a complete picture. If we have difficulty determining why Justinian behaved as he did in a given context, it is often because we forget that he could never act alone.

Thus far, we have discussed the period from the accession of Justin up to the beginning of the Three Chapters Controversy, but here our full account must cease. Up to this point, the primary challenge Justinian faced was to effect reunion, whether with

Rome or with those anti-Chalcedonians who might prove cooperative. The condemnation of the Three Chapters was, of course, pursued to this end. But as the controversy surrounding the Three Chapters grew, we find the emperor forced to worry less about promoting reunion and more about heading off disunity within the Chalcedonian church.

Efforts hereafter are less about rebuilding and more about damage control. While the emperor's desires might yet remain consistent, the circumstances are changed radically.

To proceed further under such changed conditions would require vastly broadening the scope of this study. Therefore, the treatment of the full Three Chapters Controversy and the difficulties surrounding the Council of 553 would be best addressed in a later, dedicated study.

There is nothing built into Christianity which requires controversy over matters of doctrine, alienation and schism. The Christian church is not somehow inherently given to conflict. But human beings are. Our knowledge, language, and even our empathy is limited. These limits are imposed upon us not only by the necessarily finite quality of each individual, but even the time and space over which our social networks are

234 stretched. These very networks are by definition the means through which we might hope to form connections and thereby grow our expanding circle of moral concern and understanding.467 But their ability to fulfill this function is constrained by their own structure.

To make matters yet more difficult, humans have an innate tendency to draw social boundaries, to construct in- and out-group categories. In our own age, we are frequently reminded that social status can be attached to a handful of such categories, whether of race, ethnicity, class, or those related to sex. But our inbuilt category-making tendency is not limited to the categories which we most concern ourselves with today. If it can attach status to something as arbitrary as skin color, in-groups and out-groups defined in religious terms is no great task. All we need is to begin with a different set of symbolic boundaries.

467 The term 'expanding circle' is borrowed, of course, from Peter Singer, The Expanding Circle: Ethics and Sociobiology (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1981.

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CCSL Corpus Christianorum Series Latina

CN Coleman-Norton, Volume 3

EH Evagrius Scholasticus, Ecclesiastical History

ODB Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium

PG Patrologia Graeca

PLRE Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire

PO Patrologia Orientalis

PZ Pseudo-Zachariah, Chronicle

SC Sources chrétiennes

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243 Vita

Joshua Powell is from Shepherdsville, Kentucky. He received a B.A. in History from

Berea College in 2006 and an M.A. in History from the University of Kentucky in 2009.

He is a recipient of the Association of Emeriti Faculty Endowed Fellowship for the

Preparation of Outstanding Future College and University Teachers, the University of

Kentucky Presidential Graduate Fellowship, the Dorothy Leathers Fellowship for

Outstanding Scholarly Achievement, a Certificate of Outstanding Teaching for

Instruction in the Humanities by a Teaching Assistant (College of Arts and Sciences,

University of Kentucky), and the Matthew Paul Nelson Award for History Students.

244